


Futile Scars and Subtle Stars

by toodelicatee



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Clint Barton, Avengers Family, Avengers Feels, Avengers Tower, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Guilty Steve, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt Bruce Banner, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organ Removal, Protective Avengers, Protective Natasha, Protective Tony Stark, Sad Thor, Suicide Attempt, The hulk is a hero, avengers to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:57:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toodelicatee/pseuds/toodelicatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers lose all sensibility when one of their own is endangered. Bruce Banner is kidnapped by the U.S. Military after the news channels label the Hulk a threat. Disgusted by the state in which they find their friend, the team all pull together to help Bruce make a start at recovery. For one Avenger, a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, Dr Banner's abduction and maltreatment acts as some kind of alarm bell. Soon Tony starts to realise that he is (and has been for quite some time) very much in love with his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clemency

**Author's Note:**

> Another Avengers fic, this will be a bit longer than my others. I kind of got inspired by a song again (Putting the Dog to Sleep- The Antlers) and I began writing this. I write too much hurt Bruce, but I enjoy writing a protective Tony, so I apologise for my dark plots.
> 
> Nothing would make me happier than feedback so if you could leave a comment that would be so great, it really makes my day. Also, I'm accepting any prompts so feel free to leave them too!

_"The truth is," the portly news anchor concluded the show's debate, "the Hulk is too much of a threat to American civilians. Yesterday, when the Avengers were battling adversaries in Virginia, he destroyed the Pentagon. He ripped it to shreds. Such a significant government building with so much history and so many achievements behind it- completely ruined! And all because some mindless animal is trusted to live harmoniously amongst humans. It's just not acceptable. The issue should be addressed. Dr Bruce Banner should be arrested and detained in a high-security facility."_  
  
_"In my professional opinion," one of the show's special guests added, "I believe Banner should be put down. It's not cruel, it's merciful. Captain America or Stark or any of the others should euthanize him while he's sleeping off the effects of transformation..."_

Bruce said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say. He didn't even move as Tony made a mad dash for the remote control, immediately changing channels. His eyes glanced over at the others; they were outraged.

"Yes, I think we've had enough of watching those lies." Steve's words were clipped and cold.   
  
"Talk about propaganda." Clint murmured. "No one will believe it anyway, Banner, so don't fret."  
  
"Barton's right." Tony scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Bruce knew that was the tell-tale sign the man was about to lie. "I mean, people love the Hulk."  
  
Despite the good intentions behind his friend's reassurance, the doctor had to laugh. The sound came out bitter, hollow and sardonic. "Oh, do they? Is that why, since yesterday's events, I've received exactly three hundred and seventy four death threats via email, and have been notified of a very popular petition for my indictment. I was even asked to sign it."  
  
"You know all that will blow over soon- the Pentagon's just a building, it'll be rebuilt and people will move on. They have a knack of doing so." Steve said knowingly. He moved toward the television, switching it off completely as another news bulletin displayed the green, rage-filled face of the Hulk. "Try and forget about it, Dr Banner."  
  
"What? Forget that my entire country wants me put down like I'm some... what?... rabid mongrel?" His tired tone came over as nonchalant, he knew. Truthfully, he probably _was_ beginning to grow uncaring. People wanted him dead. Nothing was new. He was so sick of it all, it no longer bothered him to the same extent it did his friends. He shrugged. "Maybe it would be safer for the world, I don't know. A dog savages a person, the vets inject it. Why shouldn't the same apply to me?"  
  
"Because you're not a dog!" Steve said, his voice dark and angry.   
  
"And you didn't savage anyone." Natasha added. She said it without an expression. However, her eyes fixed intensely on Bruce. They held conviction and somewhere deep down- care. "No one was hurt."  
  
"Plus the anchor was talking bull shit anyway- a historic building. Historic for what? The amount of fucking sadism it represents." Clint snorted.

Bruce knew that they meant no harm- they were simply comforting him as friends do. Nevertheless their obliviousness pissed him off. None of them truly knew the feeling of pure isolation. They couldn't understand how numb it left you, assuming the role of the degenerate pariah. He observed their expressions. Sympathy, but no empathy. How could there be? Sure, each of them had had their troubles, but none of them truly knew the weight of his. A part of Bruce wanted to scream at their stupidity. He wanted to yell at them, _why don't you go dance under the gamma rays, see how quickly the government can make an alien of you?_  
  
"Listen big guy, you've got a careful lid on the Goliath, you're not a danger." Tony rested a comforting hand on Bruce's left shoulder, "Grit your teeth and bare the hate for a while. You'll reap the rewards when the media's singing your praises again after the next battle. It'll be 'Hulk, the hero' plastered everywhere. Nobody will remember one detail of this."  
  
Thor nodded in agreement. "Stark is correct. The winds will soon change."  
  
"If I haven't, you know, been executed by that point."  
  
"Oh come on Bruce for Christ's sake, you know that was all just trivial talk." Tony sighed frustratedly. "The news channels sensationalise everything. It makes for some interesting television. Nobody would even consider coming near you. What grounds would they have? As you said- they put down dogs for savagery. And as Nat said, the Hulk didn't savage anyone. And he's not an animal."  
  
"Yeah you're right." Bruce nodded. He feigned a yawn; it was a very convincing one. "I think I'm going to get some rest. I'm still exhausted from yesterday."

The other Avengers all nodded, some said goodnight, and some decided they were tired too and headed for their rooms. Tony grabbed Bruce's wrist as he made to exit.

"So, you're not dwelling on it any more?"  
  
"No, not at all. You were right- the Other Guy didn't savage anyone, they've got no ground to want to put me down."  
  
"Good." Tony nodded. "I want you to tell yourself that as you fall asleep tonight. It'll keep you occupied, since other nightly activities are out of bounds for a man like yourself."  
  
Bruce was too worn for Tony's banter, but he humoured him regardless. "What d'you mean?"  
  
"I mean, you can hardly do the usual nightly fun stuff when you need to keep your heart rate down."  
  
The doctor realised the implication. "Oh, ha ha, funny." Came his deadpan reply. "But it doesn't work like that, the Other Guy only shows up in situations of distress- when I'm angry."  
  
"Really?" Tony's face was one of genuine surprise. "Well in that case, make sure you tell yourself my little mantra _after_ you've jerked off."  
  
"Good-night." He shook his head, faking a small chuckle. He wasn't really feeling in the joking mood.   
  
"Remember-" Tony was solemn suddenly, "only savage animals are dangerous. The Hulk didn't savage anyone. "  
  
Bruce waved his hand behind him, indicating some sort of agreement. Though he decided against it, he desperately wanted to correct Tony. They didn't _only_  kill savages. There was another reason for putting animals down- when they were spent and no longer of use to anyone. Then, they were put out of their misery. Many called it mercy. Bruce would call it relief.


	2. A Sundered Flock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter, the pace should pick up soon.

Thor was up early again, to see the sunrise. There was something unmistakably entrancing about it that the Asgardian dared not miss. Each morning he was awake at the crack of dawn. He sat, knees spread apart, on the large window ledge and stared out. Sharp orange rays rested on the New York skyline, settling there. Thor half-smiled at the scene then his thoughts were briefly interrupted by footsteps entering the room. No one was usually up as early as him. He turned his head to see Dr. Banner. The man's hair was ruffled and his face not as clean-shaven as it often was.  
  
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"  
  
The doctor gave an absent-minded nod. "Fine, thanks. Did you?"  
  
Thor ignored the question. "You can start to forget your woes, brother Bruce. The dust has settled. I don't believe they have even mentioned your counterpart on this news channel." He vaguely gestured at the blaring television.   
  
Bruce shook his head. "That's because you're watching MTV. It's not real news." He switched to another side and there was the Hulk's face, beneath a news title reading: The Beast of the States. He said with a sad smile. "There you are. Plenty of loathing toward me on the other channels."  
  
Thor detected a somewhat jadedness in the other man's tone. It sent through the Asgardian a pang of sorrow. The poor doctor had so much hatred directed at him, he'd actually grown accustomed to it. Thor wanted to reassure his friend but he did not have time. Bruce bid farewell, saying something about going on a long walk, and left.

That evening, the Avengers (minus one) were debating a new training regime. Things were getting rather heated. Tony was adamant that they assess all equipment each Sunday and run through some more possible fighting procedures; Steve argued that Sunday should be their day of relaxation; Clint and Natasha suggested that perhaps they needed to focus more on physical fitness for that extra day and Thor demanded that the seventh day be a time allotted for more fully-fledged missions. Tony was quite fed up with their narrow thinking. Did they not understand the importance of technical equipment? Did they not realise how big of a role it played in their victories? All of _their_ suggestions were ridiculous. If Bruce were there (and not in some day-long mood, wandering the streets of New York) he would agree. He understood. Or perhaps, he'd agree with Steve and ask if he could do yoga or something on  a Sunday. He said it calmed him, sated the Other Guy. Tony had just nodded when the doctor explained his reasons for meditating outside the lab one day, but _God,_ how he'd struggled suppressing laughter. He pondered aloud. "I wonder when the big guy's getting back anyway. Maybe then he can back me up."

"We should call him- it's getting late." Steve voiced his concern.  
  
Tony rolled his eyes. Cap's responsibility complex was so prevalent, so damn striking sometimes! "Why, is it past his curfew?"  
  
"You know what I mean, Stark. You saw the news- he's not exactly the nation's sweetheart. He could face a bit of hostility on the streets."  
  
Thor sided with Steve, of course. Regularly Tony was outnumbered, it was only Bruce that ever really piped up for him. "Dr Banner did seem melancholy this morning. He would be an easy target for verbal abuse, and in his state I fear it would affect him deeply."  
  
Cap's features darkened. He appeared suddenly anxious. "It's not the verbal abuse that I'm worried about."  
  
"He can handle himself just fine." Tony announced, but he couldn't deny that Steve's solemn worry had now spread to him too. It was unusual for Bruce to be gone for so long come to think of it. "I'll try calling him if you're all so damned edgy."  
  
He took his cell from his pocket and clicked Bruce's contact. It rang for a while, and Tony had almost given up, until finally the call was put through.  
  
"Big guy, where are you, buddy? It's been like, nine fucking hours since you decided to go on your little city tour. Cap's splitting hairs, what time are..."  
  
Someone interrupted down the end of the line. There was a steel-edged stoniness to the voice; it did not belong to Bruce at all. "Your team-mate is currently unavailable."  
  
Tony felt his throat suddenly constrict. In that voice, he could sense a maliciousness. It terrified him. Only after a moment of pure terror was he able to string a coherent sentence together. "Who is this? Where's Bruce?"  
  
"I'm speaking with Mr Stark, I believe?"  
  
"Yeah, now where the fuck is Bruce?" He spat. He was aware that forwardness was perhaps not the best tactic, but his heart was beating so fast and his insides were tangling so wildly that he'd lost all sense of control. Bruce was in danger. _Bruce was in danger._  
  
"Currently, your friend is my property. I'm General Thaddeus Ross- we have met before. While you may not think highly of me now, Mr Stark, I assure you that I only do what I do for the greater good. Banner is a threat to the United States, and I consider it my duty to stop him before he causes any more damage. He should have been vivisected and analysed like the beast he is long ago. You will thank me at a later date." And he hung up.

Tony's feet remained rooted to the spot. Why the fuck hadn't he called Bruce earlier? Why hadn't he even checked up on the guy? Why hadn't he taken Bruce's concerns seriously the other night? He ran a hand over his head. _Why? Why? Why?_ Tony realised then that he was shaking. This was a nightmare, _it had to be._

He couldn't help remembering a night, a few weeks ago. Bruce had told him about the fucker, Ross, who he'd constantly lived in fear of since the gamma accident. Vaguely, he'd muttered something about the guy reminding him of his Father. Tony had been utterly speechless then. He'd read Bruce's file, he knew about his childhood. When Tony had finally came up with a decent response, something about Bruce not being in danger any more, the doctor had nodded. There had been some kind of trust in his eyes. Tony should have nurtured that trust but... now Bruce was neck-deep in peril. Tony had let his best friend down.  _Bruce was in danger. Bruce. Was. In. Danger._ _  
  
_ "Is he okay?" Cap asked.   
  
Tony tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. He had to build up some saliva first. Finally, he managed to say quietly: "No."  
  
"What do you mean _no_?" Clint shot up out of his seat. He was already readying himself for a fight. "Has he ran into some trouble or something?"  
  
The billionaire screwed up his face, a contortion of fury, and kicked the table hard. " _B_ _astard_."  
  
"Who?" Natasha also rose from her seat. "What's happened?"  
  
"He was right, yesterday, Bruce. He was _fucking right_ and we all dismissed him."  
  
"Right about what?" Steve asked, an edge of fear creeping into his words.  
  
"When he said the government wanted him- they do. And they've got him." He exhaled. There was an evident trembling to his breathing. "He's been abducted by Thaddeus Ross and his cronies, they've been pursuing him for years. They're planning to dissect him, to study him."  
  
" _Son of a bitch._ " Steve hung his head in his hands, he stayed there for a moment, in morose contemplation, and then jumped right into action. "Right, well, we need to get to him before that happens. Do you have any leads to a location?"  
  
"No, Ross isn't a novice. He's been hunting Bruce for years." Tony hissed. "Now he's finally fucking got him, of course there are no leads. I should have..."  
  
"You need to stop wallowing and get a grip- it's the only way we'll find him, okay? I'm scared too, I'm upset, we all are. He's not just your friend, Tony. But our moping isn't going to save him. Do you understand?" Steve's voice was forceful and determined. He stared unflinchingly for nearly a whole minute.  
  
"J.A.R.V.I.S. I need you to find me a location of Bruce's phone. Then, do a full background research of General Thaddeus Ross. Find me all the areas he could possibly be keeping Bruce." The billionaire had shaken himself mentally. He knew he was the only one who could pull together the right information to get the job done. He had to suppress his anxiety right away.   
  
"I'll notify S.H.I.E.L.D, I know your trust in them is pretty thin at the moment Stark, but they need to be informed. Maybe they can be of assistance." Natasha swiftly exited the room, a look of resolve on her face.  
  
"Good." Tony pointed at Steve. "Cap, Ross admires you. You need to get in contact with him, try and flatter him. Do your very best to make sure he doesn't hurt Bruce. Then try and find out where they're keeping him if you can."  
  
Steve nodded hurriedly, grabbing the details from Tony, who had just wrote them down. "I'm on it."  
  
Each of the Avengers assumed their roles. They worked with the conviction and brilliance of bees, all focused and driven, but buzzing with just too much emotion. Dr Banner was a friend to them all. Albeit often reserved and shy, he had proven himself as a selfless, compassionate and soft team member (in spite of his occasional anger issues). The notion of what Ross would do to him rushed through each of their minds. That was what motivated them; it put the fire beneath their feet. Tony's especially. No matter how many times he tried to clear his head, pictures of scalpels and syringes filled it. He clenched his eyes shut and hoped to God this would be sorted in the morning. He assured himself that it would- it was Bruce after all, he'd Hulk out, he'd be fine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, I appreciate reviews more than anything! X


	3. Shattered Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to upload this yesterday, but I didn't have time, sorry! Hope you enjoy this chapter- it's a bit gory, in case that will trigger you, I'd suggest not reading it. 
> 
> The one thing that makes me happy more than anything is comments. I absolutely adore hearing your feedback and what you thought about certain parts/characters etc. Feel free to suggest things or mention things you'd like to see. Just let me know what you thought. The next chapter should be up soon!
> 
> Enjoy! (Though that may not be the right word since it's pretty dark.)

A seemingly ceaseless two weeks had passed since Bruce had been kidnapped. It had dragged in, Steve thought. The time slipping by had driven he and the team more or less mad. It was the not knowing that affected them all more than anything. All sorts could have been happening to their best friend, and that fact gnawed through their minds like some sort of parasite. This was one of their own- it was a personal attack, and every one of them was raging. Steve himself had punched through many walls. Such an anger was barely contained. The team had only just managed to suppress it because they knew it would not help them progress at all. And another emotion that frequently filled them all was hopelessness. Cap was constantly feeling useless; he'd not been able to get through to Ross like Tony had instructed. All the efforts he made felt ridiculously futile.

 The time was late, the sky was pitch black outside and still the Avengers were working. Every lead they had was just the result of surmising. They were crestfallen at their lack of success but pushed on regardless. Thankfully, luck was on their side that evening. Steve listened intently when he heard J.A.R.V.I.S' voice cut through the quiet.

"Sir, I have located Dr Banner's whereabouts."  
   
Tony froze in his tracks. The billionaire looked to be in such momentary shock that he dropped all of the technical paraphernalia he had been carrying; some of it even shattered on the ground.   
  
After letting out a slow, somewhat quivered breath, he uttered. "Where is he?"  
  
"Dr Banner is being held captive in Bedford, Massachusetts, Sir. There is a military base...."  
  
"I know it." Steve interrupted the AI. "I know it well."  
  
"And the directions?" Tony checked.  
  
Steve nodded. He remembered touring the aforementioned base decades ago, during the war. Never did he imagine he would be returning under such circumstances. "Yeah."  
  
Tony's expression was one of mixed relief and nervousness. Steve could be sure he saw a tremor in the man's hands as he folded them behind his back, addressing everyone earnestly: "Suit up."

They cleared the distance in what was practically no time at all. Steve did not fancy the look of the base when they first arrived. It had diminished in appearance since the last time he remembered being there. All the outside paintwork was grey. Peeling and patched, it gave off a desolate impression. When they broke through to the inside, it happened to be even more sinister. Walls surrounded them at every turn. The place was like a maze of damned walls! Steve was ahead of the rest. He'd managed to slip past while the others were dealing with the guards. He'd been assigned the job of locating Bruce.

He suddenly saw a door ahead of him. It was situated at the end of the corridor and looked different in contrast to the others. Retrieving his shield from his back, he tried to smash through. It was much stronger than he'd anticipated, and it took a few hits to succeed. Sirens began to bellow, piercing his composure completely. He sunk to his feet, hands clamped over his ears.

"You inside, Cap?" He could barely hear Tony through the communicator.   
  
"Yeah," he croaked out, "can you do something about the alarm bells? I can't think- they're maddening!."  
  
"I'm on it. Have you found Bruce?"  
  
Suddenly, the irksome noise quit, and Steve exhaled. "Thanks." His eyes scanned the spacious room. It was more or less empty, aside from a few large computer set ups. "No, he's not in here. There's just..." he noticed one of the screens was displaying security footage, "I can see Ross on there- he matches the picture on Goggle."  
  
"Google." Tony quickly corrected. "Can you see what room it is?"  
  
Steve's eyes screwed up in concentration as he observed the screen. The image was grainy and monotone, however he was able to make out the figure of the General. He was stood in front of some kind of slab. A table. Annoyingly, Steve couldn't see what was on the table because of the picture quality. He flitted his gaze over the unfolding scene, looking for some sort of clue. Anything! He finally spotted a number on the door. The same number was imprinted on a door at the end of the room he was stood in now. It had to be it. Without wasting a second, he pounded foward. This time he only used up one attempt breaking through the impediment. "I'm in.

The room he ended up in was home to one of the most brutal sights Steve had ever came across. On the table, lay a man. His torso was bare; he was naked apart from a pair of shorts, the likes of which were marred by blood. This poor man, whoever he was, was just skin and bone. He looked so emaciated. The pale, drained skin of his chest and stomach was disfigured by lacerations. The cuts were so open, and bleeding profusely. Cap felt pity flood through him. And sadness. He wanted to help this man,  _if he was still alive_ , but he had to find Dr Banner first. He vowed inwardly to return for the tortured prisoner. 

"Ross."  
  
The General swivelled on his heel. His hard eyes feasted upon the red, white and blue of Cap's suit. Any kinship that resided in his glare soon evaporated, turning to stone. "You and your friends have precisely three minutes to evacuate this building. We stand for the same things Captain: this country and its prosperity. Its protection. However, if you do not leave, and you continue to compromise this base's operation then you will all be detained. I'll leave it up to you to imagine what will happen after." He gestured at the man on the slab. "That should be a decent enough clue."  
  
"Your threats don't frighten me, nor will they make me back down." Steve said coldly. "None of us are going to. We'll tear this place apart."  
  
"I'd like to see you try. What exactly are you all here for, Captain?"  
  
"Don't play the fool. You know damn well what we're here for. Our colleague, our friend."  
  
"Oh," the General laughed bitterly, "that monster you call friend is property of the US army now. If we let him go, he will only drag this country and its people down."  
  
"He's not a monster- he's a man, a  _good_  man, and he's my friend." Steve was disgusted. He eyed Ross for a moment. "It's people like _you_ that drag this country down. Banner is a human, he's not your property, like some animal." Talking was wasting time, Steve realised. Some bigots would never open their eyes. That wasn't the important matter at hand, though. Finding Bruce was. "Where is he?"  
  
The General looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you said he was your friend."  
  
"He is." Steve raised a confused eyebrow.  _What game was Ross playing?_  
  
"And you don't recognise your friend?" The General gestured at the unconscious man sprawled out on the slab.

At that moment, the realisation dawned. It knocked Steve for six. Apprehensively, he took a step forward. The face of the man laying down had been obscured, but as Steve approached he recognised familiar black curls, now longer and unkempt. His insides lurched, and for a fleeting moment he thought he was about to keel over. The tortured prisoner he'd been feeling sorry for was in fact his friend. He examined him again. The doctor's arms were so thin; he looked like he hadn't been fed in the fortnight he'd been away. Coming in and out of his wrists were wires, some full of blood, some full of drugs that Steve guessed were keeping the Hulk at bay. There were other drugs going into him too- ones Steve did not like the look of. Messy, half-done stitches adorned his stomach. God knows why.

"What the hell have you done to him?" His voice was barely above a whisper. He'd intended it to be louder, more forceful, but he felt his strength abruptly waning.  
  
"It's an ongoing process. We need to know this beast's autonomy, so we've taken a few non-essential organs, and experimented with some drugs to see how they've affected his system." The General smirked. "And by this morning's report, it's not looking good for the creature."  
  
Steve turned to face Ross. "Do you think you're going to get away with this, you... _bastard_?"  
  
"Well," the elder man grinned at the sight of his armed guards entering the room, "yes."

But Steve was quicker. Each of their bullets he deflected deftly with his shield, then suddenly, like a row of dominoes, the men all fell to the ground. Cap had a moment of confusion until he spotted Clint. The archer now had his bow aimed at Ross. Steve thought he would fire but he didn't.

"Stark has asked to handle the General." Clint explained.  
  
Ross' face fell. He made a short-lived effort to escape before Steve pushed him to the ground. "Hold that  _beast_  down, Barton. I'll get Banner."  
  
Clint followed the instruction, asking: "Where is the Doc? Is he all right..." The archer stopped mid-sentence as the sight of Bruce laying on the table became visible. He all but gasped. "Fucking hell." The sight provoked an angry response from him. He clouted Ross hard over the head, causing him to bleed and almost black out. Clint's grip grew visibly tighter around the man. In a dangerously low voice, he spat: "You think you're out the wood because I didn't hit you with one of my arrows, just wait and fucking see what's in store for you..."  
  
Steve didn't have time to hear the rest. He had to get Banner up and out of that damned hell-hole. First, he needed a response from the man in question.  
  
"Dr Banner... Bruce, can you hear me?" He lightly tapped the man's face, which had grown a thick layer of stubble. "It's me, it's Steve, I need to know you can hear me. Okay? Do you understand?"

The doctor remained heavily under the general anaesthetic. Despite Bruce being unconscious, Steve _did_ notice that the man's expression was a pained one. His insides knotted once more.  _What had they done to his friend?_   Bruce was such a decent man. Aside from the outbursts before he hulked out, he was always so soft and tender. He listened; he understood; he cared. Steve ducked his head. His voice was slightly weaker as he spoke again: "You're safe now, Bruce. I'm going to get you to a hospital. Then you can go home. First I need you to talk to me though. I need to know I can move you."

Ebony curls fell in front of the doctor's closed eyes. They were slick with sweat and blood. Thankfully, Tony had came up with a drug a few months back to ensure that Bruce's blood wasn't toxic to touch. It was a good job or else Steve would have been unable to handle him now. He surveyed the man's face up close; he was bruised purple, his lips cut and crackled. He looked in so much agony that Steve couldn't stop the corners of his eyes from wetting. 

Bruce's own eyes flickered a bit. It was barely noticeable but it was a start that Steve clung to. "Good."  
  
He pried free the metal collar from around the doctor's neck. Beneath it, the skin was bleeding and punctured with what could only be more syringe holes.It was too much to look at _._ Trying so hard not to focus on his own anguish, Steve grabbed the tissues from the side-table where the scissors and scalpels lay. He fashioned them into bandages and put pressure on the bleeding, tying the material awkwardly.  
  
"I've got you, we're okay." He kept repeating that as he ripped the wires away, hooked his arms underneath Bruce's and heaved him up. Steve knew that his friend could not hear, but he spoke comfortingly regardless. "We're leaving now. _And I've got you_."  
  
"He can't move on his own." Clint remarked, his tone still dripping with hardly suppressed rage. "This fucker," he punched Ross again, "has got him too far under."  
  
"I know." Steve pulled Bruce into a sitting position and held him there. He didn't want to cause his friend any more pain so his movements were slow as well as cautious. He noticed then the amount of blood the doctor was losing from the incisions. It was a lot, regardless of the bandages. Steve's suit was covered in the warm, red liquid. "We need to get him to a hospital right away." He touched into the intercom to converse with the others. "Stark, do you copy?"  
  
"Yeah." Came the reply. "Where are you?"  
  
"I'm with Bruce."  
  
"Is he okay? He's all right, yeah?"  
  
Steve knew how much Tony cared about Bruce. All the Avengers cared about Banner, obviously, but Tony's affection was different. Romantic, although the billionaire would never admit it. Steve had long ago noticed Tony was in love with the doctor. Therefore, he said the next few sentences softly. He felt his own voice breaking at the truth. _How had they let this happen?_ "I can't say he is all right just now. They've done some damned awful things to him. Removed some organs, drugged him up to his eyeballs. They've tortured him, Tony. And he's losing blood at a drastic speed- that's the worry. He needs medical attention urgently."  
  
There was no reply. In less than three seconds, the suit of Iron Man flew through the door. Thor and Nat were running close behind.  
  
"We've got the Quinjet waiting outside." Nat announced to the room. "Where is he?"

Steve was about to call them over to where he was holding Bruce, but Thor had already spotted them. He was over in an easy stride or two. As Steve's had when he took in the sight of their wounded friend, Thor's eyes glazed over. He ran a hand through his blonde tresses.

"Who would do this?" He boomed.  
  
"This bastard here." Clint kicked Ross, who had curled in on himself. "But he's going to pay."  
  
"Too damn right he's going to pay." Tony's voice was dangerously dark. He'd just caught sight of Bruce, Steve could tell, because he remained frozen in one spot. "Thor, you take Ross back to Fury- make sure he's detained. I'll deal with him later."  
  
The Asgardian nodded. However, before leaving, he swiftly turned to where Steve was clutching Bruce upright. By now, the man's head had sunk into Steve's chest. Cap held it there, lightly, in case there was any damage to his neck.   
  
"I will return shortly. Ensure that brother Banner is taken care of."   
  
Steve nodded solemnly. "I consider it my duty."  
  
Thor unloosened his cape. "Cover him in this when you take him for medical attention. The cold will kill him otherwise."

 Natasha came hesitantly closer as Thor departed. There was a fear in her movement that Steve thought foreign. She was always so collected but now appeared absolutely terrified. "This is our fault right? He's been tortured because we didn't hear him out when he told us he was in danger." Her tone was full of anger.

"We should have listened to him." Clint sighed. "We can't focus on that now, though. We need to get to a doctor."  
  
"Have you checked his vitals? Quickly, we need to move. I can already see he's burning up, check his pulse and his breathing." Tony demanded   
  
Cap did as instructed. He felt a momentary lapse in his own heartbeat when he felt how weak Bruce's was and how ragged his chest movements were. "He's not breathing properly."

The billionaire cursed, seemingly upon the realisation he was useless in his suit. He couldn't resuscitate his friend. Tony pointed a metallic hand at Clint. "Get him breathing while Steve supports him, okay?"

The archer let Ross' beaten body slap against the concrete flooring with a thud! Natasha adroitly moved to the limp form, crouching down. The General winced as she took over Clint's role; her grip was around his neck- it looked incredibly tight. Steve watched as Ross flickered in and out of consciousness.

"Start breathing for me, bud, come on." Hawkeye laid the doctor back down with much vigilance, Steve still being careful to keep a steady hold on Bruce's neck- just in case.  
  
The captain watched nervously as Clint covered the unconscious man's mouth with his own and held his nose. He breathed in, cursed, and repeated the action. After what passed as an eternity, Clint finally looked up. "Thank _fuck._ " He sunk back and breathed a long sigh of relief. "His chest is rising, weakly, but it's a start." He slowly removed a hand from Bruce's face. "We get to a hospital. Now."

Tony ordered everyone to go ahead in the Quinjet; he said he would be quicker carrying Bruce as he flew in the suit. They all agreed. The Quinjet could run into opposition if the base decided to attack- Tony's idea was a solid one. However, Steve was reluctant to let go of Bruce. He didn't want to leave him, feeling a fierce sense of protection after having found him and held him for some time. However, he knew brooding would not help, so he softly manoeuvred the doctor's head from his lap. He looked down, his damp eyes lingering on the broken man. "You're going to be fine. Hang in there." 

When the others cleared off, Tony screamed. It was a bitter, desperate cry. Immediately managing himself, he easily lifted up Bruce's fragile, starved form. This man who was so strong, so enduring, so fantastic, now felt so small. He wrapped Bruce in Thor's cape, then fixed him so that his arms hung over Iron Man's shoulders, and his body was pressed to the suit's front. Tony found that his hands were running through Bruce's curls as they soared (though it felt like sinking) through the night sky. He didn't realise. "You're going to be fine buddy, do you hear me?" He found himself repeating Steve's words into the empty night. He was telling himself that, not Bruce. Tony needed the comfort. 

Why hadn't he just taken Bruce seriously two weeks ago? He'd have stayed up with him all night, every night, to soothe his justified paranoia. He would have fought off anyone who came near him, he would have went on that city walk and wrestled Ross to the ground if he'd had to. He would have saved his friend. 

"When we get to this hospital," the wind quietened Tony's voice, so he yelled instead- to the man who couldn't even hear, "I'll have to let you down- so they can put you on a stretcher and everything- but after that, once you're all fixed, I'll not be far. Not ever!"  
  
Tony kept reassuring himself. Bruce was going to be fine in no time. The blood that was still pouring from him (in spite of Steve's makeshift bandages) would soon be cleared up, he'd soon be put on a ventilator and everything would go back to the way it was. And in future Tony would shoot any damned bastard that ever dared hurt the doctor again. He'd never let today reoccur. Because, all things considered, if there was one thing in his life that Tony wanted to last it was his time spent with Dr Bruce Banner.


	4. In That Hospital Room

The waiting room had a coldness that lingered, like the lurking darkness outside. Tony was sick to his back teeth; they'd been there for well over an hour and the intense kind of worry had begun to kick in. It was the kind that robbed you of your sanity. He couldn't stand the void of not knowing. It was killing him.  He kept picturing a white sheet being pulled over Bruce's lifeless face. Other sickening images swirled around in his head too. Most of them involved a flat-line.  _No, Bruce would be fine._ He tried telling himself that repeatedly, however the what-ifs still managed to prevail his thoughts. Unable to stand it much longer, he stood, knocking the chair he'd been sitting on a few metres backward.   
  
"Where are you going?"   
  
Of course, Steve would have _something_ to say, Tony should have guessed. He rolled his eyes. "Where do you think? In fact, don't answer, it's rhetorical."  
  
"You can't go and see him- he's in theatre. The surgeons can't be disturbed, do you want them to make a mistake?"   
  
The tendrils of Tony's mind began to coil, barbed wire with no end. His breathing quickened and his features were ignited by a sudden rage he couldn't explain. "Always the epitome of responsibility, aren't you Cap? And idiocy. I'm not going to interrupt them, I'm just going to check up on Bruce," he observed his team coldly, minus Thor who still had not returned, "since I'm the only one who gives a fuck about him."

With those simple words, every single one of them flared.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Stark?" Clint stood, squaring his shoulders.  
  
"You think you're the only one who cares, Stark?" Natasha said with a raised eyebrow. Fault lines were all over her expression, cracking that usually composed exterior, transforming it into something akin to fear. "You're wrong."

Steve closed the distance in between himself and Tony with one stride. When he spoke his voice was dangerously low. "I understand you're upset, but don't _dare_  tell me that I don't care about one of my team members again. In the war, I learned nothing was more important than my comrades and if one was down, I had to get them back on their feet. That principle still stands now. One of my men is down, and all I truly care about now is getting him back on his feet. That kind of conviction may be a bit foreign to you but to me it's second nature." He stepped back, his voice returning to a calmer state. It was loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. "Just because we're all not making a pointless scene like you are, Stark, it doesn't mean we're not killing ourselves inside. Banner is our friend. He's supposed to be yours too. Why would you try to belittle his importance and insinuate that there's only you who cares about his life?"

Tony broke eye contact with the soldier. He didn't have time for games. He glanced around quickly, noting that the others appeared equally as concerned about Bruce as himself. Maybe he shouldn't have accused them of nonchalance. "Fine, maybe you do all care, I can see that. But I'm still going to check up on him. You can all wait here like statues, but I can't stand it any longer."

"It's pointless." Steve exclaimed. "And dangerous. You could risk ruining the doctors' focus."  
  
"I'm not going into the damned room!" Tony cried. "Jesus Christ, how hard is it to understand? I'm only going to try and speak to a nurse outside or see from the window..."  
  
"Oh so you think the Bruce we all know and love would like you watching him being operated on. He would hate it, he would be angry, you know how much he likes his privacy. It would enrage him to know that you watched him being cut up by strangers."  
  
"I know Bruce better than you and I know that he'd prefer not being all on his fucking own after weeks of torture...." Tony wasn't too shocked when his voice broke off.  
  
"Enough!" 

At first they all assumed the bellowing to belong to Thor, but when they turned they realised it was a nurse. He was young, thin and overall did not look like he could possess such an authoritative shout. 

"Thank you." He commented when hush fell upon them all. "My name is Dr Lui, I understand that you are all here for Dr Robert Bruce Banner."  
  
"Is he all right?" Each of them demanded in unison. They all rose and congregated wildly around the now slightly overwhelmed nurse.   
  
"I assume, given the celebrity status of you all," he glanced awkwardly at Tony, "that you have some of the best people working to find whoever did this to Dr Banner, because it is truly beyond anything I've seen in my six year career." He cleared his voice by coughing, maturing the tone. He was so young, perhaps he felt inadequate. Tony didn't care if he was twelve, so long as he told them Bruce was okay.  
  
"But he's fine?" Steve pressed.

The nurse began the news deliverance. "His captors began, roughly two weeks ago, by filling every one of his veins with a cocktail of sedates. They proceeded to restrain him which has caused severe bruising all around the body, as well as two broken ribs. Once they had him constricted, they did what I can only describe as tests. They were testing his pain threshold. They tortured him." The whole world seemed to tilt, and Tony felt dizzy. "This involved multiple lacerations, whippings and beatings. The doctors have confirmed that for the first twelve days sleep deprivation was inflicted upon Dr Banner, I don't believe he's been given food in that time either, and only minimal amounts of water. They took a lot of blood and messily removed non-essential organs without administrating painkillers. I assume they were planning on using the organs for experiments."

Tony was weak on his feet suddenly. His stomach lurched forward. For an instance, he thought he was going to puke all over the nurse's shoes. He looked around at the others. Steve's face had drained of much of its colour, Natasha looked dazed and Clint's nostrils were flared in fury, his whole being looking ready for a fight. Tony couldn't exactly describe his own emotions at that time. All he knew was that he needed to see Bruce. He needed to see him and hear him say that despite everything, he wasn't in pain any more. It was silly. Tony knew his friend was far from okay, but he wanted to hear a lie, he wanted to believe Bruce wasn't suffering.

 "Is he awake now?" His voice was remarkably quiet and child-like. He didn't care.

"No." The nurse explained softly. "We've had to put him under for the time being- if he wakes now, the pain will just be unbearable."

"What can you do for him?" Steve asked hurriedly. "To ensure he's not in agony when he does rouse?"  
  
"We will give him plenty of painkillers, though I can't say that will completely stop the hurting."  
  
All eyes turned to Natasha when she spoke. Her strained tone was unstable; if Tony had the energy to be alarmed, he would have been. Never had the chilled assassin been so discomfited. "What surgery has he had?"  
  
"We've had to operate on his spine." Dr Lui registered their widened eyes. He continued. "It was successful- and not a major operation. We've had to clean up his incisions and replace the stitches with new ones. Currently he is on a ventilator. Shortly, he should be able to breathe on his own. Walking, eating and even just sitting upright are different matters altogether. I'm afraid they will have to come with time."  
  
"Which organs did those bastards take?" Clint snarled.  
  
"They removed his appendix, which does not matter. However, his spleen has also been removed which could render him more prone to infections. Due to the beatings, his left lung is no longer functioning. We have had to remove it." Clearly noticing the horrified expressions, Lui added. "Many people live with just one lung, it's not much of an issue. He'll be kept on a ventilator for some time and then eventually weaned off."

 As Tony approached his best friend's room, his mind was a scattered mess. An anxiety attack was coming on. He could practically feel Bruce's agony and God how he wished he was the one hurting instead. He'd give anything- even his damned soul- to ensure that Banner didn't feel the torment he inevitably would. _At least he was alive_ , Tony reassured himself. That was something to build on at least, because he'd never really felt this way before- such a powerful sense of devotion. It ached. It throbbed. He wasn't planning on leaving the man's bedside. Why was his worry such a strong one? It felt inescapable, like chains constricting him. 

Reluctance boiled to the surface of his skin, translating as flushed cheeks, as he peered through the window. He couldn't see much due to the masses of machinery. Inhaling slowly, he entered. The wretched sight shot him. Bruce looked even paler than the thin sheet reaching up to his waist. He was so frail and meagre, the bed swallowed him whole. Tony thought that someone should be in there with him, holding him and making him less small. It was a deluded notion he knew but he was still half-tempted to lie down next to the poor patient and take him up in his arms. Something stopped him though- he was too afraid he would hurt Bruce's tender bruises and cuts, his broken ribs and broken body. Tony cautiously took another step toward the bed. It took a lot of will power to keep back tears; he could feel them prick his eyes. Guilt and sadness were stinging his mind raw.

 Bruce's skin was marred by an excess of bruises. His mouth was covered by an oxygen mask, breathing for him. Tony tried not to linger on that, sinking into the bedside chair. He scanned his eyes over his friend's form for some sign of movement. None. He chose not to speak; it felt too stupid. And what words would suffice anyway?

 He wanted to keep his eyes off Bruce's arms but he couldn't. There were tubes lodged in, pumping in morphine, a drip feeding him. What had Ross reduced him to? Tears spilled, which Tony quickly wiped away with the back of his sleeve as he noticed Steve enter.

Cap moved toward the bed with the same kind of hesitance Tony had. He couldn't look at Bruce for long and hung his head. " _Jesus._ "  
  
"Bad, isn't it?"  
  
Steve nodded sadly.  
  
"Do you think he's going to be in pain when he wakes up? The Hulk could make an appearance." Tony couldn't hear his own voice as he spoke. Everything felt unreal.  
  
"The doctors have said the Hulk won't appear until Dr Banner is able to walk unaided, when he's fully recovered." Steve sighed. "God, I hope he's not in too much pain."  
  
"He will be." Tony muttered darkly. "People who hang around me too long always get fucking hurt."  
  
"It's got nothing to do with any of that superstitious rubbish and you know it. We're all to blame. He told us his concerns and we foolishly dismissed them. His blood," Steve quickly averted his eyes from the bed, the sight of the blood in question proving too much to bear, "is on our hands. All we can do to compensate for that is help him through, you know."  
  
The billionaire nodded minutely. He clenched his jaw when he noticed Thor enter the room. With a low voice, he practically growled. "Where is Ross?"  
  
"He is being held at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. Director Fury has the anger of a thousand Gods in him- I don't believe the General will be released in any short time." The demigod stopped in his tracks suddenly. He absorbed the sight of the wires and oxygen mask, the monitors and saline fluids. "What have you allowed these people to do to our friend Banner? He's as much of a prisoner here as he was under the General, all these tubes and machines..."  
  
"They're helping him breathe. He can't do it on his own like we can." Natasha explained, coming into the room with Clint. She was reluctant to glance at their friend, the patient, but when she did Tony noticed her body tensed.   
  
"Why not?" Thor quizzed.  
  
"Because of everything those military bastards did to him." Clint snarled. "I swear, I'll make that Ross guy pay."  
  
There was a murmur of affirmation amongst the other team members. They were all in agreement. Tony, however, remained quiet. In his mind he'd imagined the things he'd do to Ross a thousand times over. He wouldn't let anyone else avenge Bruce, for some unknown reason he felt he had to be the one to.

 "We need to move him. And fast." Natasha spoke up. All eyes fell on her. "S.H.I.E.L.D think that there is a terrorist organisation- probably related to Ross in some way- who believe Banner should be executed. They're searching for him apparently. This is an open, public hospital- they could disguise themselves as doctors or anything. He's not safe here."

"Things just go from bad to worse." Steve shook his head.   
  
"How are we going to move him?" Clint shrugged. "Look at the poor bastard, he's not well enough."  
  
"He'll have to be- just for the journey." Natasha countered. "If he stays here, his life is at major risk. Do you all want him to die?"  
  
"Of course we don't..." Steve began but Tony interrupted.  
  
"Where do S.H.I.E.L.D plan on moving him to?" He was heated. "Are they planning on caging him up like they've thought of before. He's going to be affected by this, there's going to be trauma. Absolutely no damn way is he going to come round to find himself in another form of prison. He's already spent two weeks as a prisoner."  
  
Thor's nod was resolute.  "Aye, I agree with Stark."   
  
"So do I." Steve declared. He agreed with Tony- _well, that was a fucking first!_  
  
"He'll have to stay in the medical bay." Natasha checked her watch. "We need to move now."


	5. Shivers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned that this has a lot of triggering stuff in it (suicide attempt reference) so please trust your own judgement. Please, please don't read if this stuff is dangerous for you. Be safe :)
> 
> Also I haven't misspelled 'honour.' I'm British so it's spelled 'honour' whereas the American version is 'honor'. Just for reference!
> 
> Please reviews, as always much appreciated..

The journey had been highly tense. Natasha had barely been able to breathe. Air kept catching in her throat, choking her. A constant cause for alarm was the sound of her team's anger when Dr Banner kept being sent into convulsions. She could hardly focus on driving the Quinjet. It was Clint who was with Bruce at the moment. He'd replaced Tony, who had done nothing but yell and be downright rude to the doctor. Hawkeye was calmer, somewhat, but not much better.  
  
"What the hell are you putting into him that's making him fit like that?" She heard Clint demand. "You're supposed to be a god damned doctor, aren't you?"  
  
"It's not the drugs. He's developed hypothermia. It's not severe, so there is no need for a heart-lung bypass. We do need to treat it though."  
  
"Shit. What should I do?" Clint urged.  
  
"Mr Barton, fetch me as many blankets as you can find- do you understand? And hot liquid. Not high-energy, and absolutely no alcohol."  
  
He nodded and quickly fled. He returned almost immediately with everything the doctor had asked for. Natasha wished she could look ahead but she found herself continually checking the scene behind her. From the first time she'd met Bruce, way back- in India, she'd felt some affinity with the man. It was shared, she knew. They both viewed themselves as monsters, both full of so much self-loathing. After hearing his story on the Helicarrier about a failed suicide attempt, Natasha had taken to him even more. There was something in his eyes, past the frequent flashes of green, that made her feel understood. He was the best kind of friend to have, she contemplated. Of course she enjoyed all of her team's company but being with Bruce, talking to him, she knew that he was always listening. Always caring, always valuing. _And he always looked at you like you were way above him- always made you feel so important._  
  
"I need to measure his temperature, Mr Barton, so you need to make sure it is raised. Can you do that?" The doctor instructed.  
  
"I know what to do." Clint clearly did not appreciate the condescending tone.  
  
"Good, so do it."

 Natasha felt her eyes revert once more to the happening behind her. She watched as Clint hurriedly bundled blankets around the shuddering form of their friend. She knew Hawkeye well enough to recognise the slight delay in his movements. That only _ever_  occurred when he was overstrung- and that was damned rare! 

"Be careful with his head. You've got to support it." The doctor barked.  
  
Clint nodded. "Shit, yeah, 'course." He did as he was told, gently cradling Banner's head and keeping it down to stop him from convulsing and damaging it. "Do we need more blankets?"  
  
"No." The doctor said. "His temperature is rising. Slowly. Did you get the hot liquid...?"  
  
"It's right here." Clint was swift this time, he'd kicked himself into action Natasha guessed. Carefully, he pushed Bruce up into a sitting position, Clint's broad arms hooked around the unconscious man's chest. He removed the oxygen mask and placed the hot water to his cracked lips. "Should I just tip it into his mouth?"  
  
"Yes, he can hardly do it himself, can he?"  
  
If this wasn't such a serious situation, Natasha imagined that Clint would have punched the arrogant doctor by now. He kept a lid on it for Bruce's sake though. He was more important than putting a moron in his place. "His temperature back to normal?"  
  
The doctor nodded. "Yes, good job."  
  
Clint let out a long sigh of relief, to which Natasha replicated. The archer let his head roll back. It had been a long, exhausting day.  "Stop fucking scaring us like that Banner. Leave that to the Other Guy, all right?"  
  
Natasha grunted in agreement. She would never say it aloud, because it wasn't her style, but she silently prayed for Bruce to pull through. There were men out there- evil men- who deserved that extreme kind of pain. Dr Banner wasn't one of those men. He wasn't even close.

Finally, after what seemed like an endless trip, they arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D and Banner was moved to the medical bay. Expertly trained medics were on hand. They were all in agreement that in order to recover, the man would need sleep. Plenty of it. They'd warned the avengers that there were many hostile drugs in his system and that meant in his moments of wakefulness (however few) he would need to regurgitate them. 

"But then, after his system is cleaned, he'll be fine?" Tony checked.  
  
"As you know he will still struggle with walking for some time. The inflictions of his capture have left him highly infirm. It will take a while before he is back to normal. A month, I imagine, no more." The medic bit her lip. "Physically, he should pull through but I cannot speak for any mental scars. Only Dr Banner can be the judge of that."  
  
"We should take shifts staying here with him, in the bay." Steve decided. "There's still this terrorist organisation baying for the Hulk's blood. Security here is good- but we know from past experience it can disappoint. Banner's still a target. Even here."  
  
There was a consensus amongst everyone. Thor, who did not seem at all exhausted like the others, volunteered to go first.  
  
"I shall take first watch over brother Banner. It is no trouble."  
  
"No, I will." Tony stepped forth.   
  
"What did we talk about?" Steve whispered harshly, so only Tony could hear. "You're not the doctor's only friend. Let Thor take this shift. Look at you, your eyes are barely open- we're all exhausted, Thor isn't. It's better for Bruce if he has someone alert guarding him."  
  
The billionaire hesitated for a minute. He looked ready to argue but Steve's case was too strong. He nodded and retired with the others, though not before casting  a last look at his poorly friend. He didn't say anything, but he certainly felt something. He couldn't pin it down. Whatever it was.

Thor watched the ragged rise and fall of his friend's breast. Up, down, up, down. It was steady but laboured. The demigod shook his head sadly, he was deeply moved by the events of the past fortnight. He always felt things so hard, so incessantly, and he was feeling his friend's misfortune currently. The torment was so vivid in his head. He pictured the things Bruce had had done to him. He wondered if Loki would ever have stooped as low as General Ross had, if his own brother ever hurt people to that extent. He liked to think not.

"Did... d... did it w... work?" An incredibly croaky voice sounded.  
  
Thor snapped his head up from where he had been staring at the floor. Bruce had spoken. He was half-conscious, still heavily under sedatives, but his eyelids were open slightly and his bloodied, bruised lips moved as he stammered.  
  
"My friend, how do you feel?"   
  
"Did it work?" Bruce rasped again.   
  
The Asgardian noticed then that Bruce wasn't looking at him. There was no recognition in his gaze. His eyes were fluttering shut, he was still drugged up and delirious. Thor asked confusedly. "Did what work, Dr Banner?"  
  
"The train? Am I dead?" His voice was so strained and shaky. He looked ready to pass out, clearly having delusions. He made a mad dash with his hands to pry free the cannula beneath his nose. Thor managed to take the man's hand in his own to stop him and didn't let go.

Thor was still for an extended moment. Bruce's words registered in his mind. He felt his throat tighten, a lump formed and he couldn't swallow it. That's where Bruce had been going that night when Ross and his minions had kidnapped him. He'd been going to kill himself. To 'put himself down' as the news channels had persuaded. Thor's eyes welled up, he could feel the raw emotion burning them. 

"What do you mean, Bruce? What train?"

The poor man was in such a fugue state, he clearly didn't know his bearings. He was hallucinating and had no filter for his words. "The train on the subway... I wanted it to kill me..." He coughed heavily.

The Asgardian didn't make any effort to prevent his tears from falling now. He let them drip down his cheeks openly. He was unsure how to react. He had always sensed a sadness around Dr Banner. It lingered like smoke that would not billow out.

 _And Bruce was such a good man_. One of the best Thor had ever had the privilege of speaking to. He always had such an interest in others. When Thor had brooded over Loki's evil, Bruce had sat down and comforted him. He'd spoken so eloquently and soothingly. The doctor deserved goodness- not pain.

"My friend, when you are well," Thor began, although he knew his team mate was not in a state to understand, "you will not know this hurt again. I will make sure of it. General Ross will not be able to touch you..."

"Ross." Bruce's voice was barely above a whisper- it evidently hurt to speak. "Ross, just kill me now, stop all of this and just do it.' But then panic seemed to kick in. Banner moved his hands, frantically grabbing once more at the medicine tubes going into him. His movements were weak and pointless.

"I am not Ross. It is Thor- your friend, dear Bruce. I'm here to protect you. Look. Look at me." He reached his hand out to cup his friend's face with his palm. He ensured that Bruce's eyes were in his direction. Though they were still fluttering, they managed to fix on Thor. "I will keep you safe. On my life, on my honour, I will keep you safe."

Bruce moved slowly to push Thor's grip from his cheek, but suddenly he seemed to  recognise his friend. He let his hand flop and relax on Thor's, which was still on his face. His fingers fell on the demigod's knuckles. 'Thor?... Thor.' His sigh was one of relief. Sleep began to take him. 

"'I will not leave," the Asgardian breathed slowly, 'and when I do Natasha will be here to stay with you on her shift. You'll not be alone, Dr Banner.'

Thor was careful not to move his hand in fear of waking Bruce. He knew the man needed his rest so he just stayed in that position. All Thor could concentrate on was the fact that Bruce had attempted suicide, before Ross had found him. He'd actually wanted to end it all. Thor couldn't get a handle on that notion- it made him sick. The poor, poor man. He was broken. Thor would try his best to help, with the others, to heal him.

'My friend- things are going to get a lot better soon. You will see, you will see your pain pass.' 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Wake

It was Natasha who swapped shifts with Thor. The demigod looked half-shaken as he trudged out of the room. She regarded him oddly; there was a sad vacancy in his glare. He had been... _crying._  
  
"Is Bruce still stable?"  
  
Thor nodded, not even making eye contact. His voice still held its thick, heavy command though. "Banner woke briefly. But he was far too anaesthetized to even begin to comprehend his surroundings. He thought I was the General Ross."  
  
"What did he say?"

The Asgardian chose not to answer, striding hurriedly away. He had looked so abnormal, _so disturbed._ Natasha vaguely wondered what had occurred to leave him appearing that shell-shocked. However, she didn't have much time to wonder. She suddenly became aware of her responsibility and sat down next to the bed where her friend lay. He looked as awful as he had when they'd found him, still cute, but worse for wear. The nurses hadn't even bothered cleaning the grime and dirt from his body. Two weeks he'd been holed up in that hell-hole, of course he needed cleaned. If the medics didn't care enough to make him comfortable, Natasha certainly did. She'd look after him.

Carefully, Natasha took a flannel from the metal bedside tray. She ran it under the tap, lathered it in some soap and folded up the material. With a precariousness, she began to scrub Bruce's filthy skin. There seemed to be layers and layers of dirt covering the man. It took her a while; there was just so much to clean. She felt a sort of despair as she worked on him. It filled her with misery and hopelessness. He'd been defiled so much.

"What have they done to you eh, big guy?" Sounded her soft mutter.  
  
He didn't reply but he did stir as she scrubbed harder, therefore she lightened her touch. His skin was so rough and cut by weeks of torture; she feared that she was damaging his wounds. Her worries came to life when he suddenly winced. At first she thought he was still under. However his body writhed beneath her moving hands and his head rolled back as he crashed into consciousness. Coughs violently wrecked him.  
  
"Bruce..." Natasha was swift to respond. "Are you okay?"   
  
He coughed again- his eyes were closed shut, tightly, in agony. "Where am I?"  
  
"We're at S.H.I.E.L.D- but we're safe. It's me, Natasha." She decided she would inject a small amount of tenderness into her tone,. After enduring fourteen days of brutality surely he deserved it. And it wasn't _much_ of an effort, really. Bruce was the endearing sort. He made you _want_ to be kind to him, just to make him smile. "You're far away from where you were, Bruce."  
  
"Natasha?" He breathed slowly.  
  
"Yes, I'm here. Try to relax. Don't push yourself to speak. The medics said to sleep as much as you can. You need it."  
  
His hands frantically rapped for the wires in his arms. He made to yank them out but Natasha coiled her fingers around his wrists, softly putting them back down on the bed.   
  
"Natasha..." He repeated, dazed.  
  
"Can you repeat what I said? Tell me where we are, Bruce." She needed to check he was not having delusions. He shook underneath her hold, so she twined her fingers with his own, to soothe him. A large part of her wanted to make him less afraid. "I'm here with you, okay? Now can you please tell me where we are?"  
  
"...Bedford..." He muttered. His features contorted in pain as she placed the tubes back into his skin.  
  
Natasha apologised, touching the sore spot. "No, Bruce, we're not there. Not any more. We're at S.H.I.E.L.D like I said, and you are safe."

He nodded although it was clear he was not taking much in.   
  
"Do you get it?"  
  
"S.H.I.E.L.D."  
  
"Yes," she urged, a flicker of hope igniting inside, "and do you feel safe?"  
  
This time he shook his head weakly. "S.H.I.E.L.D will kill me. " A few gravelly coughs followed. His body threw into a spasm but Natasha was quick to hold him down. "Natasha?"  
  
"Yes?" By now she was sure he actually recognised her, he kept repeating her name, as if it was his only truth.  
  
"Let them kill me. Please." He passed out then. His whole body gave in at the effort, stress and agony of wakefulness. The limbs and bones of him collapsed and turned to jelly in her light grip.  
  
"You're not in danger. Bruce, wake up- you need to hear me out- S.H.I.E.L.D. are looking out for you. They're not going to harm you." Natasha tried to shake him awake. He remained under.

It was futile. All of this was. This pain he was enduring was so very pointless. Good men's agony was always unavailing, at least when devils suffered others could smile. But Bruce's anguish held no greater purpose- he was too decent to deserve any pain whatsoever. It would not make him grow, or learn or develop- it would only make him hurt. And everyone else witnessing it. She sighed. Parts of this were not dissimilar from the red room.  _Let them. Please._ Banner's words suddenly made sense in her mind. He wanted her to let S.H.I.E.L.D. kill him. He asked for death. Then she began to ponder- where had Bruce been going that evening he was kidnapped? Surely he hadn't intended...

Natasha's train of thought was interrupted by Clint, who entered to switch shifts with her. She was thankful- her mind was getting too affected by all of this, a pause was much required. Emotion started to gnaw at her composure. That spelled danger. She didn't want the others seeing her vulnerable. Though, she guessed that worrying about such trivial nonsense was not good. Her friend was in a hospital bed, unable to remain conscious for more than a second, and wishing he was dead. Being concerned about showing a bit of heart was not something Natasha thought she should focus on.

"Ready to switch?" Clint asked, sliding through.  
  
"Yeah." She nodded, glancing back at the bed. Her fingers rested on Bruce's head for a short moment. It felt like longer. There was still blood in his curls. Natasha decided she'd help him wash it when he improved.   
  
"You okay?"  
  
Natasha turned to Clint. "Of course I am."  
  
"If this is too much for you, you don't need to do another shift. If this situation is too much like... Russia..."  
  
"It's similar." She interrupted him. Delving into her life, she didn't much fancy. The timing was all wrong. "But not on this scale."  
  
Clint grunted. He shook his head as he stared at the figure on the bed. "The poor bastard."  
  
"I'll do my share." She remarked. Looking at Bruce, Natasha knew that he was a charge she wouldn't abandon. "God knows he needs as many people looking out for him as possible."  
  
"God knows." The archer agreed.

Clint, as calm as he liked to believe he was, actually crumbled in these types of situations. He didn't mind having someone's life in his hands if it was for a mere moment. When there was no room to think sombre thoughts. Circumstances like the current one were much different. He had to assess the fragility of the person's soul, splayed in his palms to protect. In this case it was his friend- Banner- he had to preserve. It was such a cruel charge. All Hawkeye could lend a moment to was wondering what would happen if things turned sour, if the terrorists baying for Bruce trespassed. Clint was unashamedly a pessimist, though he would call it realism. He prepared for the worst possible outcome. Always. 

Now he considered strategy. The bastards would crash through the windows if they were to break in, which he guessed they would. That meant Clint had to angle his chair at precisely sixty degrees; it allowed him to keep a close eye on Bruce as well as all entrances. He kind of wished the terrorists would come. He wanted to show them what happened when they messed with a fellow avenger. It would set a good example. No military would ever come near Banner or the Hulk again. _Poor guy._ Clint had been too filled with rage when he first rescued his friend, the tortured husk, to properly analyse what had happened. In the silence now he had the time and patience. He thought deeply about it. There was so much injustice. Of all people Bruce was certainly the most undeserving of torture. Clint remembered the awkward, slightly nervous smile of the doctor. It seemed far removed from the unconscious man now. No smile would look natural on his cut lips. No joy would be appropriate in this room right now.

At first, when the Avengers Initiative was in its early days, Clint had been apprehensive of Bruce. He'd knew the man was good and kind- but it was the looming threat of the Other Guy that put Clint off getting too close. However, as time passed, the archer learned how very wrong he'd been. The Hulk frequently helped him out during missions, even shielding him once, saving his life. And after that, he began to spend more time with Banner. The ice broke and Clint no longer felt edgy around him. They were polar opposites in truth. The two men couldn't have been any more different; one might assume they couldn't possibly enjoy each other's company. They did though, very much. In fact Clint would go as far as to say his most meaningful conversations were with Dr Banner. Apart from maybe Tasha, Bruce was probably the person he'd go to first if he needed... well, help with anything. This was partly because he knew Bruce would- without hesitation- give every part of himself to helping. He always did. He possessed none of Cap's self-righteousness, none of Stark's selfishness or Thor's innocence. Bruce would just try, regardless of his own reservations, to make a friend feel better.

Clint decided then he was going to kill whoever dared come here for his team-mate. And perhaps he would kill Ross too, if Stark decided not to. He was so furious that he fancied destroying everyone involved in the capture. _Everyone._

"Where am I?"  
  
Clint snapped his head around in shock. He'd been too busy directing attention to the window to notice that Bruce was awake. His head rested against a propped up pillow, his eyes were bloodshot and his skin drained of all colour.   
  
"Jesus, Bruce, I thought you were going to be under for ages." The archer suddenly remembered what the medic had said. "Listen, I think you should maybe spew some of that stuff up. The drugs. They were hostile, most of them the military pumped into you. You need to get them out of your bloodstream and quickly."  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"S.H.I.E.L.D." Clint guessed that he'd woken and asked the others the same question- obviously not yet clear-headed. The archer would help him get his thoughts organised. "You're good, Banner. Not in danger. But we need to get those shitty drugs out of your system do you hear?"  
  
Bruce's neck lolled as he almost drifted. Clint was quick to grab a hold of his shoulders and gently shake him. He began coughing hard, bringing up blood and mucus in his hands. He apologised in between the fits to Clint, who just kept his hands rooted on his friend's shoulders. He'd managed to pull the man up into a sitting position and was now holding him there. The archer positioned himself so that he was able to keep the trembling man steady. Broad arms encircled a meagre form.  
  
"Here," he grabbed a discarded box from the floor, "you need to vomit."  
  
Bruce shook his head, evidently reluctant. He gave in though and was soon retching fiercely.   
  
"That's it." Clint rubbed his back in circles, and the doctor spewed again. "Get it all up."

Bruce vomited for nearly twenty minutes straight. When he was finally finished, he muttered through gritted teeth, "God, I'm sorry Clint."

The archer let out a short sigh of relief. Banner recognised him. He was clear-headed finally. No more delusions. "Don't be ridiculous man, you don't need to apologise for shit, because Christ, you've been through hell these past couple of weeks."  
  
"Did I hurt anybody?"  
  
"No, nobody at all. The hulk is out of order for a while." He tried his best to lighten up the situation, but it felt too unnatural. "You're the only one that got hurt, I mean- they _really_ hurt you, doc."  
  
"Ross."  
  
"Yeah, that _evil_ bastard." Hawkeye spat. "But you'll never see him again, not after Stark is through with him."  
  
"Tony. Where's Tony?"  
  
"He's all right. He's fine, absolutely fine. He'll be here after Steve's shift next."   
  
"Good." He relaxed a little. "And so is everyone else? They're all well?"  
  
Clint couldn't help but smile sadly. "Jesus, Bruce, you've been tortured and deprived of essentials for fourteen days and all you care about is if we're all right." He sighed exasperatedly. "Who the fuck would want to hurt a guy like you, eh? It blows my mind."

"Clint?" Bruce rasped, interrupting.  
  
"What is it, buddy?" But he needn't have asked. Right away he noticed his friend's expression. It was one of pure pain and torment. Abruptly, Bruce passed out and his body collapsed, head-first toward the floor. Luckily Clint was faster than the falling man and he caught him in the nick of time. "Whoa there, steady on, I got you."

 Hawkeye aided the barely conscious man onto the bed and under the sheets. He left the room for a moment, returning immediately with a bottle of liquid morphine. He handed it to Bruce, whose trembling fingers fiddled eagerly with the lid. He couldn't quite manage to unscrew it.

"Clint..."  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but can you...?" He was clearly humiliated at his own incapability, looking away as he stretched out the bottle, his arm shaking wildly.   
  
Clint clicked on immediately. "Shit yeah, course, don't even ask." He unscrewed the lid for his friend.   
  
"Thanks." Bruce said earnestly before chugging nearly half the bottle, still lying down.   
  
"I don't think you should take any more," Hawkeye snatched it quickly from him, "you'll definitely OD."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You don't need to keep apologising. Fuck, you're still in agony aren't you?"  
  
Bruce hesitated, eventually managing a nod. "So much."  
  
"I'll get a medic."  
  
"Clint..."  
  
"Yeah?" The archer turned, already half-way out of the room.   
  
"It's fine, I'll be fine. Just... stay, it's fine."  
  
"You need medical attention Bruce. You're quivering because of the pain. Morphine isn't helping and I can't help, only the doctors can."  
  
"I don't want help, I just want... please..." He couldn't quite get all his words out at once, there was a lot of stammering. "You don't need to leave."

 Then it dawned on Clint. The poor fucker was still re-living the nightmare that had been his life for the past fortnight. God-knows how often he'd been left alone, tortured, bleeding and downright terrified. And Clint's was the first friendly face he had properly registered and spoken to. _Bruce didn't want to be left alone_. Hawkeye felt a wave of sorrow wash over him. All this amounted to was a greater desire to smash Ross' skull with a thousand fucking arrows.

  
"Medic!" He leaned out of the ajar door and yelled. "Bruce needs pain relief. Lots of it. Morphine isn't that effective for him right now!" Then he lowered his voice. "See, I'm staying here to pester the life out of you, okay? You're going to hear all about my one-night stand with a certain Agent we both now. Should lift your spirits, it's a good tale."  
  
Clint was sure he saw his friend ease slightly. He sat down in the stool again. Though Bruce did his best to sound interested, he appeared ready to fade out of consciousness again. He hoarsely asked: "Was it Natasha?"  
  
"Not quite." Hawkeye laughed. "Think a tad taller, not as pretty."

 At that precise moment, Steve entered, ready to take on his shift. His despondent expression immediately switched to consolation as he absorbed the sight of a semi-conscious Bruce.

"Dr Banner!" He all but exclaimed, striding toward the bed. The memories flooded back, the memories of the military base. How he'd been the one to find his friend, the one to stay with him as he practically bled out. He bent down to enfold the man in what was an extremely awkwardly positioned hug, but Steve didn't seem to mind, and surprisingly Bruce didn't either. "How do you feel?"  
  
Bruce sunk back into the pillows. He shook his head. "Not brilliant."  
  
"You'll soon be healed, the workers here are some of the country's best. You'll be fine." He smiled re-assuringly, switching his gaze to the door as a medic entered.  
  
As Steve took the new pain relief given by a doctor, Hawkeye nodded to Bruce. "I'll catch up with you soon buddy, start to feel better."

"Coulson. The agent you slept with," Bruce coughed, "was it Coulson?"  
  
Clint smirked, and after an extended pause, he winked. "At least you haven't lost your sharpness eh, doc?"  


  
  



	7. Searching for Meaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some science bro interaction finally! I've been waiting to write some more of these two. I'm so excited for the next chapter. I think it will be the best. Please review! I love your feedback. Thank you to you all X

If the others were under the impression Steve slept soundly at night, calm and content with the burden of responsibility, they were hugely mistaken. Since Bruce had first turned out missing, he'd hardly slept a wink. When he _had_ been able to drift off, the rest had only lasted a few hours or so before he awoke in thrashing distress. Guilt consumed him; he felt responsibility for the tragedy. He was supposed to keep his team together, _keep them safe!_ Well he'd failed at that, for sure. He'd let Banner down, in the same way he'd let Bucky down. He couldn't stop thinking about Bucky, no matter how he tried. The situation between Ross and Bruce was too similar to the way in which Bucky had been treated. It dredged up painful, unwanted memories. He knew his feelings of guilt (for disappointing both men) were pointless. It didn't stop him from feeling them though. Unfortunately, that was the nature of pain- it couldn't be switched on and off like a tap.

"You know, this is really unbelievable for me." Steve shook his head. "I can't get over it."  
  
"What?" Bruce asked. He'd said he was feeling a little better, so Steve had helped him into a sitting position, his head resting against propped-up pillows. However, it sounded like speaking still caused his throat a great deal of pain.   
  
"I found you, it was me, I found you with Ross back in Massachussets. You were out cold." He inhaled. "I didn't let myself consider it at the time, but I thought you weren't going to make it." Steve allowed his dark expression to melt into a warm smile as he clasped Bruce's shoulder. "But now you're awake and talking. You'll be walking out of here in no time!"  
  
"God I hope so." Bruce didn't sound too convinced.  
  
"Dr Banner... um..." He ducked his head, faltering slightly. "Can I ask you something? Don't feel pressured to answer, if it makes you uncomfortable?"  
  
"Go on."  
  
"It's just..." He sighed. "Do you still trust me?"  
  
"What?" The doctor was incredulous. "Why wouldn't I?"  
  
"I let you down, I _really_ let you down, as your leader. As your friend. My job is to protect my team and, well, now look at you! Look what they've done to you. When you voiced your concerns, I should have heeded them..."  
  
"Oh, Steve, no. Don't do this to yourself, please. I've spent years wallowing in guilt and blame over other people's pain and it doesn't bring closure. Not ever. It just eats at you. None of this is your fault, I swear. _I_ wouldn't have listened to me- I sounded paranoid. You've done nothing wrong. You found me, I remember hearing your voice. Vaugely. The first friendly voice after weeks of Ross' taunts and torture." He paused, to cough. "Of course I trust you, Steve."  
  
Cap nodded. He felt somewhat better about himself. "Thanks, doc." Then, something in the corridor outside snatched his attention. "What the...?"

He watched dumbfounded as Natasha fought her way through at least six masked men. They collapsed like a house of cards as she kicked, flipped and hit at each of their sluggish forms. Steve jumped up quickly and fled to her. She probably didn't want (or need, for that matter) his assistance but he was there to offer it anyway. He wouldn't forgive himself if another Avenger was hurt.

"These are the terrorists wanting Banner dead? They're these men?" He guessed.  
  
"Yeah." She called, while maintaining a vice-like grip around one of the two guys left standing. "You can make yourself useful and get that one for me,do I have to do everything around here?" Her tone was light and playful, this was no challenge for her.  
  
Steve did exactly as he was instructed to, seizing the retreating form. "Got him!"  
  
"Good." She sighed, sounding almost bored. "That was too easy."  
  
"Easy is good." Steve reminded her.  
  
She grinned, evidently pleased with her victory. "Yeah, right, I forget."

Natasha took over the Captain's shift. She'd taken note of how exhausted the soldier appeared and thought perhaps, she'd be a better guardian. She slipped into the medical bay with a calmness about her. She didn't want Bruce to have cause to panic. Although she knew the Hulk was unable to surface, the threat he posed still lingered in the air. Unspoken.

The doctor seemed to be improving. If only in tiny spurts, it was improvement nevertheless. "You look better from when I was last here."

"I feel... well, a little better."  
  
"Actually- who am I kidding? Who are you kidding?" She snorted. "You look terrible, that stubbly mess on your face makes you look one hundred, and your hair is _atrocious_. It's redder than mine."  
  
"It feels as bad as you've just described, too. " Bruce chuckled, running a weak hand through his blood-stained curls.   
  
"Not one medic has offered to clean you up?"  
  
He shook his weary head. "I think they're all apprehensive of me. I don't blame them..."  
  
"I'll do it myself."  
  
His eyes widened. She smirked as he stammered. "You don't have to..."  
  
"Technically I do. I already promised you in your unconscious state. On my first shift."  
  
"You did?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Must have slipped my mind." He was clearly nervous about the whole thing. What _wasn't_ he nervous about, come to think of it?  
  
"Actually I might have just thought it to myself, but I still _planned_ on doing it so I will. If you'd like."  
  
He was still for a moment, considering the pros and cons probably. Finally he nodded.  
  
Natasha positioned herself so that she was behind Bruce. One of her hands was hooked around his middle, keeping him steady (he was still unable to sit up without support) and the other she used to gently massage soap into his hair. At first he was tense and wouldn't relax into the hold. She was also unsure. It was the first time in a long while she'd had someone be so reliant, so very much in her care. It felt odd. Perhaps not all too bad.  
  
"Tell me if it is hurting you. Your head is covered in cuts, I'm being careful not to catch one but it's difficult; there are many."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm fine."  
  
She raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't see her. "Banner, you wouldn't tell me even if you weren't. You always lie." She mimicked his tone. " _Everything's okay, I'm good, don't worry about me._ "  
  
He chuckled quietly. The sound was hollow. Natasha guessed he had no empty space for happiness or joy inside him, not after recent events. "Sometimes lies are easier."  
  
She paused for a moment, hand mid-air. After a moment of contemplation, she brought her fingers down to his head again. His tresses turned smooth against her skin as she lathered them. They were slick, damp and soft. There was no blood left on his head, no trace of it. His body and face were very different matters though. They remained marred by patterns of wounds. Crimson, purple, pink. A whole array of colours. No green. Maybe green could have saved him. Maybe it could have put an end to it all before it had even begun. Maybe Bruce needed to realise that green wasn't always danger.

Tony had been greatly alarmed at the sight of Natasha and Bruce when he'd entered the medical bay. The normally reserved Agent was cross-legged behind Banner, finishing off washing his hair. When he entered she bid the doctor farewell, and Tony stopped her at the door. He thanked her for attacking the terrorists before they got to Bruce. Told her good job, because it was- it was the best fucking job of the the day! She gave him her usual curt nod and departed, not quick enough to prevent Tony from seeing a discreet grin spread across her lips.

"Hey I've been waiting for your shift all day." Bruce said, in a voice that sounded like he needed to cough, but couldn't. Or was afraid to. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" Tony looked at his best friend incredulously. "How am _I_ feeling?"  
  
"Someone said you'd had an anxiety attack. Are you okay? I've been worried."  
  
Tony had to laugh then. It wasn't a bitter one. It was surprisingly full of relief, because in spite of everything- Bruce was still Bruce. "I'm fine, buddy. I'm the one that's worried." He exhaled a shaky breath. Things weren't smooth yet. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Bruce shook his head. "I can speak now, I know where I am. The drugs Ross put inside of me aren't as strong. Physically, I suppose I'm making a start at recovery. My body still hurts though- my bones ache. All the cuts and bruises, and..." he winced as he touched a fleshy scar, starting above his left nipple and stretching to his chin. "the scars are sore."  
  
"Jesus Christ..." Tony was only aware that tears had begun falling from his eyes when they splashed onto his folded hands. He hurriedly wiped them, but Bruce had already seen.   
  
"Please, Tony, don't do that. Don't... cry. You don't cry. That's not... don't waste your tears on me, I'm not worth it." The doctor tried his best at a laugh. He'd evidently been hoping to diffuse the tension. It didn't work.  
  
The billionaire was alarmed at his own outrage. How could Bruce be so fucking stupid, for someone so fucking genius? "You've got to be kidding. Seriously! If there's only one thing worth crying for in this fucked up existence of mine then it's you." He quickly realised what he'd said and changed the wording. "I mean, what's been done to you."  
  
Bruce's eyes fixed on him. They were round and brown, lost and alone. Tony wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to tell him something but he wasn't even sure himself what it was. Bruce closed his eyes for a second. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No, no. Don't say sorry, don't apologise to me." He said softly. "Your hair is still wet."  
  
"Tasha forgot to dry it." He offered a small simper. "It'll just dry on its own."  
  
"God no! On top of all your fucking agony at the moment, you don't need to catch a cold as well." Bruce nodded in agreement, and made to reach for the towel. Tony was quick. He jumped up from his seat and placed two hands on his friend's shoulders, carefully pushing him back down. "You're not to exert yourself- doctors' orders. Whatever you need, whatever you want, I'll do it."

He towelled through his friend's locks. Bruce, after a few minutes, settled back. Once the job was done, his head relaxed beneath Tony's chin. The billionaire thought he was asleep at first, but soon realised that was not the case.

"Are you okay?"  
  
Bruce nodded. "Thank you for that."  
  
"Don't mention it, big guy."   
  
Parts of Tony's mind were like pieces of a dot-to-dot puzzle. They needed to be aligned somehow. Firstly, he needed to figure out why his head had no room for anything other than thoughts about Banner. He needed to get a hold on why the sight of the man's injuries gave him more heartache than he'd ever known before. Why had he wrapped both of his arms around him,nestling his lips into the curls he'd dried? Why was he more often than not hard around him? Why were his fingers lightly stroking the doctor's chest? Why did he wish to be alone so that he could sob at the recollection of Bruce wincing? Why did he simultaneously wish to _not_ be alone? Not ever, to always have someone, and for that someone to be Bruce...

And it was then. That was the moment. He considered that he always sort of knew. He just never really had the time to entertain the idea. Sat there, entwined as it were, with Banner, the fact was kind of hard to ignore. It latched onto him like some kind of leech. The warmest, most affable leech in human history. He was of course, in love with his best friend. He wasn't sure how long for, but he imagined it had begun in the early days. He wouldn't have argued if someone had guessed the first.

"Are you okay?" Tony's reactions were more delayed than before. His revelation had shocked him, slowed him. When Bruce jolted forward suddenly, it took him over ten seconds to respond. He managed eventually, though. "What's wrong? Can I help?"

The colour of Bruce's face did not look good. His paled countenance had greyed. Tony picked up a basin and sidled next to Bruce, keeping him upright as he was sick into the bowl. When he was eventually done, he collapsed once more. Tony caught him. Their bodies were  _pressed so close. "_ Thanks." Bruce croaked out. "Tony?"  
  
"Yeah, buddy."  
  
His voice crumbled a small amount, and when Tony looked he saw that his friend's eyes were growing damper by the second. "Where is Ross being held?"  
  
"He's contained. I swear to you he's old news. He'll _never_ hurt you again. You're safe. All I want to do now is keep you safe."

He paused. He wondered. He grinned. If his next action backfired, it backfired. He'd deal with that later.  Right at that moment, he was still reeling from Bruce being alive. Still angry at his battered form, still so possessed by the realisation he was in love with his best friend. There was so much buzzing around inside him. The only thing he could do to tether all that madness was lean down and brush his lips against the doctor's forehead. He stayed there for ages, his tongue tasting the salted skin. He moved his hands to caress the man's cheeks, running them slowly through his hair, down his neck. _And he was home_. Reluctantly, after a few minutes, Tony pulled away. He made a silent wish that he would be able to do that again. Soon. Very soon. 

"When they captured me, I..." Bruce was crying. He didn't make the sounds. However, his eyes leaked nevertheless. "All I could think about was you. When they... tortured me..." his voice wobbled, so Tony took his hand, "only one thought could reassure me. I played it in my head, over and over. Do you know what it was?"  
  
Tony shook his head. His eyes were transfixed.  
  
"I kept telling myself that I'd see you again. See, everything's dark for me. In my life there's just this constant siege of darkness. It grew worse after I tried to swallow a bullet." He bit his lip. Tony wondered if it was the fever talking, making him so damned poetic, but Bruce seemed genuine (even though running a high temperature). "Then you came along, an obnoxious, arrogant light, and I wanted to get better."  
  
Tony's shoulders lifted. They were stronger now. A whole atlas no longer weighing him down. He felt boundless. "Very eloquent, Doc. I'm afraid poetry isn't my strongest point."  
  
Bruce grinned. "Three words will suffice."  
  
"They better had. " He pressed another lasting kiss onto the man's face. "Cause I fucking love you."  
  
"It's slightly unnerving." Bruce pondered, as Tony shrugged them both beneath the covers. "I always thought you'd kiss, like you know, everyone else. On the lips."  
  
Tony laughed, soothing a hand over Bruce's hair, as the man rested on his chest. "Normally, that is the case. You can look forward to it. This time, however, given the vomit you've just spewed up, your mouth (as lovely as it is) was a huge turn-off. I'm not going to lie to you, big guy."

 


	8. Lights Are Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken ages to get up! I've been away from home for quite a bit. I'll try to be more regular with updates from now on. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm kind of taking on a new writing style, inspired by F. Scott Fitzgerald style because recently I've just been eating up his work, it's just so beautiful. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please, please if you have any feedback I'd be so grateful to hear it.
> 
> Thank you!

The moon was thick and heavy, set in the sky like clay spilled on a black work-top. Its meagre light strained its way through the window, just managing to illuminate the two men lying in bed together. One asleep, one alert. Tony was the latter of course. He had not been able to drift off the way Bruce so easily had. He just couldn't. Despite his undeniable exultation at whatever it was that was beginning between himself and Bruce, he was still distressed. When he closed his eyes he didn't feel so bad. However, as long as they were open, and he could see the scars, cuts and bruises adorning his lover's skin, he was most definitely not okay.  
  
The doctor's body was spooned in front of Tony's with ease, the billionaire's face rested in the ebony curls. He wanted so much to be able to just relax. Everything was remarkably tranquil to boot; Bruce's chest rose and sunk beneath Tony's hands at a steady, soothing pace. There was the soft, quiet sound of snoring. But he just couldn't get a hold of himself.

He could feel the doctor's heartbeat and that only perturbed him further. Boom. Boom. Boom. The beating carried so much weight, like a child with iron shackles around his ankles. And Tony could only hold Bruce. That was it, all he could do to relieve his love's burden- simply hold him.  
  
_Fuck this._  
  
He quickly made a vow to himself that tomorrow he would kill Ross. He'd never tell Bruce, because Bruce probably wouldn't want it, but he needed it so Tony would do what needed to be done. He shifted his hands slightly, hating the trembling of the doctor's pulse. The tremble wasn't there evidently, but Tony's imagination was so vivid and rife, he could practically  _feel_ it.

Bruce's whole body suddenly convulsed. Tony realised he must have touched one of the still tender scars on the man's body. He quickly retracted his hand and plunged a deep kiss into the dark curls. It didn't feel strange either, the intimacy between the two, given their year or so of platonic friendship. It felt cathartic. Like they should have done this from the beginning. 

'Shit! God, I'm sorry Bruce, are you okay?'

'Tony...' Bruce frantically cried out. He turned too quickly around and wound up aggravating even more of his wounds. Tony was fast in his reaction and wrapped his arms whole around his lover.

'It's okay, big guy, it's okay. Try not to move. Just lay here, with me.' He sidled himself over slightly so that their limbs were tangled and they were properly facing each other. He carefully lifted a hand to Bruce's face and ran it down his cheek. 'Can you hear me?'

It immediately became apparent that Bruce could not in fact hear; he tensed and tried his best to back away from Tony. His words came out as stammers. 'Ross...' He weakly attempted to shield his face. 'just kill me, kill me you fucking...' His dream-state voice trailed off into a pained, defeated groan as he was shaken by Tony.

'What did they do to you?' The billionaire lamented rhetorically, feeling his eyes prick and sting. 'Are you okay?' Such a stupid fucking question he knew the damned answer to. But it was all he could muster... and Bruce deserved so much more than that.

'Just a nightmare. I'm sorry Tony, I...' His eyes darted to the window, and he visibly relaxed as he saw it was shut. Immediately he tensed again. 'I'm...' His voice wobbled and he had to close his eyes. 'I can still hear him, hear Ross. I still feel like I'm back there. I... I'm sorry for waking you, I didn't mean to. I...' He was a wreck. All stammers and fear and exhaustion. Tony could've cried right there. 

'I told you to stop apologising yesterday. You don't need to, not for anything.' His fingers found Bruce's. Their callousness surprised him. As he looked he saw that the skin of his palms was striped with cuts and loose flaps of dead skin.

'I tried to get out of my restraints, so they used a razor to cut my hands to shreds.' Bruce said bluntly, as he seemed to notice Tony stare.

He swallowed whatever lump had formed in his throat but it refused to be digested. 'I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner.'

'You came. That's more than I could've ever hoped for- people who actually care enough about me to risk their lives...' He broke off. 'I can't even comprehend it.'

'If I could,' Tony's voice was suddenly a gun, 'I'd travel back to the moment you were born and I'd kill every single fucker who ever made you feel the way you always do.'

'The way I always do?'

'Unloved.'

Bruce looked down, perhaps he was embarrassed. He tried to chuckle. 'You needn't. I don't feel that way anymore, but thank you for the sentiment.'

That statement flooded Tony with pleasant heat. Bruce felt loved. Tony smirked smugly to himself. He'd been the one to make Bruce feel loved, of course he had. It was, he decided, his finest achievement.

An idea suddenly struck the billionaire. He didn't necessarially like it. However, it would help Bruce and so he was willing. Would be willing to do anything.

'Tell me what happened, if you feel comfortable enough.'

'Happened?' Bruce confusedly asked.

'Back in Masachussets.'

At the very mention of the state, the doctor seemed to shrug into himself, shrinking into Tony's embrace, who began to consciously massage the man's hair. Tony loved doing that. He didn't stop. 

'You wouldn't want to hear about that.' Bruce said. 'You don't need to.'

'I don't want to hear it.' Tony almost laughed at that. 'Of course I don't. Why would I? Why would I want to listen to how a bunch of military pricks kidnapped and barbarically tortured the love of my whole fucking life...' He cut himself off quickly. The day's events were doing things to him and he needed to stop speaking immediately. He felt like his skin was falling off, revealing everything that should remain hidden. Hidden meant control! 

Bruce registered Tony's words but he didn't say anything in return. Tony didn't mind. He knew Bruce wasn't really lying there right now, his mind was somewhere else, miles away. His mind was still back at the military base, helpless. It would be for some time, unless...

'You just need to tell me what happened okay? Right now you're the only one who knows, in detail that is. And it is one hell of a fucking burden to carry on your shoulders alone. If you tell me- you don't need to spill to anyone else, they'll just piss you off with their complacency anyway. Just tell me. I could take some of the weight off you.' He paused. 'Let me help you, fuck's sake. Please. That's all I want to do. Just let me, Bruce. I know affection is a foreign thing for you, I know nobody's shown you an ounce of fucking God-damned kindness but I'm gonna give you all of that okay? Just wait and see, the years that follow will be the best years of your life, I'm telling you.' And Tony's too... but he kept that to himself.

'You're so full of yourself aren't you?'

'How could I not be? You've seen me, haven't you?'

Bruce smiled, but then sobred back to sadness. 'Are you sure you're okay with me telling you it all? It's not nice.'

'I didn't expect that table you were strapped to, to have been a bed of roses.'

'I know, but...'

Tony moved his hand, still clasped with Bruce's, up to the doctor's cheek and soothed the stubbly skin with his thumb. 'It's all right. We're all right. You are, you're all right, here now, with me, you're all right Bruce.' It sounded repetitive, Tony knew that, but sometimes (he had learned through his own traumatic experiences of times passed) repetition was appeasing. And he wanted was for Bruce to feel at peace. If nothing else, by God he wanted Bruce to feel at peace.

The doctor took a long, unsteady breath. His brown eyes were inflated with apprehension and fear, glazed by tears already, like thin transparent icing. 'They drugged me first. Heavy, heavy sedatives. So heavy you've no idea. Pints of the stuff, pushed through my skin with syringes the size of arms. They needed that amount to stop the Other Guy, I guess.' His voice was overtaken by a momentary waver. 'I couldn't lift my head up, could only make whimpers or other inaudible sounds. I don't remember what I was saying, but I kept muttering something. I guess I was delusional. I hallucinated a lot when the drugs were first administered. I pictured my Father, the night he killed my Mother... the scene kept replaying in my head.'

Tony saw now that Bruce was more or less crying, though attempting to cover it up. He ran his knuckles over the man's face, beneath his eyes, mopping up the tears. 

'Once I was drugged up enough for their liking,' Bruce continued, 'they strapped me to that damned table. They started cutting me right away. The knives were so sharp. They cut so deep, never knew I could bleed that much, but I was swimming in red.

They cut me like a butcher would cut their meat. I wasn't human there. They forgot my humanity, and I think I did too.

They let me bleed, until I was practically dry. Then they poured water all over me, buckets and buckets. Of course blood ran faster as a result. I was so thirsty I lapped it all up from around me, the water mixed with my blood; the taste... it was metallic, it was vile. But I drank it all anyway, licked my own neck, my arms, anywhere where the water collected, like some dog, but my throat was constricted and my mouth so dry- I mean, I'd lost so much blood. I couldn't help it; I needed water. I suppose I confirmed their prejudices. I must have looked like a beast.

Exhaustion took over, I began to drift off, as anyone would. But they wouldn't allow it. Every time I tried to sleep they'd pour water over me, or beat me bloody. Sleep deprivation, it's called, and it's...' His eyes were still somewhere else, gazing off, 'unimaginable.'

Bruce took a long breath and it was he who reached out that time. He searched for Tony's hand, they had let go of each other some time ago due to Bruce's shaking. He was still trembling, like some weak autumn leaf, but he grappled for his lover's fingers anyway. When their hands met, Tony's welcomed Bruce's. He held on with the strength of an army, their palms crashing and colliding like waves on the shore.

'They took my organs after the first five or six days of cutting and beating me. I was given no drugs to numb me, only to suppress the Other Guy. They carved me open. I could feel every ridge of the knife as it made contact with my skin. They forced my head up to watch as they pulled out my appendix, and whatever else they took. I didn't know at the time, I think I passed out, I can't remember. Clint had to tell me, I had no clue. After that, I wasn't fully aware of my surroundings, I don't think. I just remember more beatings, whippings and lacerations. No food. Only tiny splashes of water.

Then Steve came. I remember vaguely his voice. It was like music to me. The first time in, what- 14 days, that I felt safe. If I wasn't so drugged and delusional then I would've kissed him.' He smiled at Tony, who was feigning envy behind all his tears. 'Kidding.'

A thick, weighty silence lingered in the air. It was like a bear, curling hands and claws and teeth and fur, all dread. Tony felt sick. Physically sick. He could feel vomit slosh around in his belly. He was ready to spew it up but he managed to keep it at bay. He didn't want to make it all about him when it wasn't.

All he could do was look at Bruce. Safe. He was safe now. He never had to go back there. Tony would damn well make sure that nothing, no one hurt Bruce in any way ever again! He didn't care who he had to kill or what he had to do.

But someone had hurt him! And that drove Tony over the edge, tipping him over a mountain, ready to fall a thousand feet. He despised the images in his head. Of Bruce all bloody and broken. Understandably, his eyes leaked all down his face, which he made no effort to conceal. He'd lost the strength to. His face had crumbled and he was one step short of openly weeping.

'Now you know,' Bruce sighed, 'so what happens now?'

Tony inhaled. Then exhaled. He carefully cupped Bruce's face in his hands and leaned forward. His lips latched on to the other man's as a child would latch on to their Mother's breast, with a gentle hunger. Things hadn't been like that with Pepper when they'd been together; they had been so very different. Cold, reserved and lonely. He'd loved her very much, but he had never actually been in love with her, so to speak. Their kisses had been monotonous, just two people touching mouths.  But with Bruce, Tony felt like they were fusing, becoming a joined entity. Becoming, as it were, one.

'Now, I can listen, and I can understand. I can...' He still felt sick. 'Now you are not alone.'

Bruce nodded, settling back down into Tony's embrace. 'And you don't think I'm pathetic? Or weak? I mean, I could've reached for the Other Guy. I could have tried but...well, I don't have an excuse. I just didn't do it. It was too much effort, I was already hurting. I was too scared, too much of a coward...'

'Don't you dare!' Tony was fast. He shot the words like his mouth was a gun. 'When Steve found you, you were half dead. Clint said he thought he was going to have to carry your corpse out of there, he was terrified.' Tony was growing frustrated. Why couldn't Bruce see what everyone else saw? 'Are you somehow still delusional? Do you have any idea, seriously? Bruce, for fourteen days you were holed up, beaten and tortured! You could've tore the place apart, you didn't. You held on. All your life you've held on. I mean, Christ, if anyone else were to have your childhood experience; have a gamma accident like you; spend two weeks being cut up and tortured, I think they'd have hardened. Turned cruel, cold. They'd have turned to stone. You're still this soft, shy, kind, albeit fucking impossible bastard. Shit! How can you believe I'd think you were weak? Do you know me? Have you met yourself? Have you, though?'

'I know, I know you wouldn't think that.' Bruce's eyes looked heavy. Tony noticed his head was ready to droop. 'I'm just a mess. I think, I think I need some sleep.'

'You sleep.' Tony said softly. 'I'll be here when you wake up.'

He waited until Bruce was snoring softly again. If there weren't so many bruises, so many cuts and scars, Tony would have felt content. But he couldn't muster that emotion, no matter how hard he tried! In his head danced the image of Bruce, laying  almost stark naked on a table, and he felt the helplessness. He could hear Bruce's prayers ringing in his ears. They were alarms. They shook him. Tony felt himself going mad. He needed to do something. And he knew exactly what.

He stood, kissed his love firmly on the head and left. As he walked, he was certain of one thing, that he was so in love. He was. It was consuming, as though he was finally extricated from whatever his life had been before. 

Tony found Ross in the holding cell, where he had been since Thor put him there. The general was curled up into a ball, his knees tucked up beneath his chin and he shook from the cold. Even Tony had to shrug his coat further around himself.

'You've come to kill me.' The elder man managed to croak out groggily. It was a statement. He knew what would transpire.

'Yes.' Tony nodded. He couldn't look at the man without burning up in fury; he saw the base, pictured the image of Bruce waking up after his nightmare. How much sleep Bruce would lose in the many nights to come. How many times he would wake up in terror... 'Yes. I'm going to kill you.' Tony's voice was low, full of indifference. Of all the lives in the world, Ross' was the one Tony loathed the most. 'And I will make sure that it hurts like hell, hurts as much as you made Bruce hurt.'

Ross chuckled. Dry and hollow. 'You do realise your avenging a monster, a killer. This friend of yours isn't human, he only makes play at it.'

'He's twice the man I'll ever be.' Tony knelt. 'And by God, he makes you... he makes you into, I don't know what.'

'I think someone's in love.' Ross chided, apathetically.

Tony could only scoff. 'Oh, you've no idea.'

'I only did what I did to protect my country.'

'The Hulk isn't a threat to America.'

'Do you seriously think that?' Ross laughed. 'If you do then you're more stupid than you look. Fool! He would rip out your throat and crush your veins in his palm if you looked at him wrong.'

'Last year he saved my life.'

'And the next, he could end it. Accept that the beast is at least a risk. Do you want to take that chance, Mr Stark?'

'I'd take it a thousand times if I had to. On the other hand you are out of chances Ross.'

Moonlight hardly got into the cell. It was a pit of darkness. A void. Tony could barely locate the knife in his bag.

Ross' eyes enlarged. Quick were his stammers. 'He called your name.'

'Who?'

'Your lover boy. Banner. One name was all he kept repeating as we experimented on him. Tony, Tony, Tony. Over and over like he was a child and that was the only word he knew.'

Tony felt his throat constrict. 'Why?' His voice trembled. Suddenly the anger in his tone had dissipated, turned to woe. 'Why did you hurt him? That much? He is a good man, he didn't deserve any of it. Not one scratch.'

'Sometimes, bad things need to happen for the greater good.'

'Then you'll understand what I'm about to do.' Tony composed himself. He couldn't break right now. Not in front of Ross. 'Bruce is the greater good of my life, so I must kill you. I need to protect him.'

'Kill me then. Get it over with. Be a man, look into my eyes and kill me. We both know you won't.'

There was some small movement, a scuffle almost, until there wasn't. Tony collected his things and left. 

When he returned to he medical bay, the avengers were gathered outside Bruce's room. The man in question was still sleeping. 

'What the hell's going on?' Tony pushed into their huddle. 

'Why have you got blood on your hands?' Steve quizzed. Then he sighed, he looked dejected, his expression sad. 'It doesn't even matter I guess. Not now.'

'What's going on?' Tony immediately became anxious. 'Is Bruce okay?'

'Define okay.' Clint leaned back against the wall, grunting in what must have been sheer exasperation. 'I'm guessing Thor hasn't told you yet.'

'Told me what?!'

Natasha gestured at a stool nearby. Her expression was soft and sorrowful; he'd never seen it like that before. 'You better sit down.' He was growing ill with worry by that point.

'No! Someone tell me! What's wrong with him, damn it!'

'Tony,' Steve rested a hand on Tony's shoulder. The billionaire was too flustered to realise the super soldier had used his first name. Cap's voice dropped to a comforting whisper. 'I saw you, with Bruce, in the bay, as you kissed. I'm sorry for being a bit hard on you. I can tell now why you were so neurotic and possessive. You love him, and not in the way we all do. I've always thought you did, I noticed the way you were around him and I knew.' Steve paused, closing his eyes. 'Which is why you need to sit down when we tell you what we're about to.'

'Someone fucking tell me what is going on, damn it! Someone tell me Bruce is okay!'

'Right now he's sleeping in there, he's all right.' Nat said quickly. She obviously knew what Tony had concluded. 'He's alive, don't worry.'

Thor stepped toward Tony. 'I think this is for me to tell you, brother Stark, as I told the others while you were out.' The demi-god looked massively discomfited. 'When I took my shift, the first one, looking over brother Bruce, he woke. It was only for a few minutes. Back then the drugs were still rife in his system. He was delusional. Saying all sorts.' Thor spoke the next sentence with great difficulty. 'He asked me if it had worked.'

'If what had worked?'

'The train. Do you know where Bruce had been going that day he was kidnapped?'

Tony shook his head. Looking around at the others, they all appeared shell-shocked. Melancholy. He braced himself, ready to plunge into the freezing sea depths they had all dived into when Thor had told them. 

Thor continued, 'Dear Banner was in a very low place. I believe the public opinion had got to him, emotionally. Had him falsely feeling like he was a danger to us. To everyone. He had been at the train station when Ross kidnapped him. He was mumbling and drugged when he told me but I managed to decipher most of it. He had settled on the tracks, and waited for the train.' Thor's voice crackled for a moment. 'He'd hoped that it would kill him. I don't know what happened, but it obviously didn't work. And Ross got to him right afterward.'

Tony couldn't think of anything to say, he couldn't even remember how to cry, as he watched the walls of his world close in around him. He felt like the Dead Sea.

Bruce, only a fortnight ago, had attempted suicide.

And Tony was sorry, sorry that he hadn't told Bruce he loved him sooner, sorry that there was a wall between them now, sorry that Bruce had ever had to taste bullets or trains, sorry that the man's bones and heart felt so old, sorry, so sorry...


	9. Lovely Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter but it started getting too long. There will probably be a few more to follow. I really, really appreciate feedback. And promise Bruce/Tony in the next chapter. Lots of it.

Bruce watched through a half-open eye as his friends gathered in a gaggle outside the medical bay, all alight in conversation. Whenever they looked his way he quickly pretended to be asleep. He knew exactly what they were discussing. Partly because of the dejection riddled into Tony's expression, and partly because of the downcast look Cap was sporting. Somehow they had discovered the details of his recent suicide attempt.  
  
He'd never meant for them to find out. He'd never wanted that, never.They were the kind to blame themselves (especially Steve) and he didn't fancy anyone else hurting at his expense. For a moment he considered beckoning them, to put them at ease and tell them he'd risen from his recent low point. Things were on the up. However, something stopped him- and it was fear. Bruce didn't know why but he was terrified of their company right now, now that they knew the truth. He felt like he'd disappointed them. After everything they'd done for him, how they'd accepted him like a brother, he'd thrown it in their faces- by throwing himself in front of a train.  
  
And all that Bruce could ask himself, the words swimming around his head: _what must Tony think of me?_

He tried to sleep but the tendrils of rest were not coming to him so easily. They pulled at the dark corners of his mind, bringing ugly memories out to play. All he wanted was a gentle dream. He was sick of nightmares, hadn't the last two weeks been hellish enough? Couldn't he just get some peace? Couldn't Tony come back to bed? He didn't like lying there alone.  
  
And to think solitude had once been his lover.  
  
**"** Puny Banner lie on tracks. Tried to kill us." Suddenly the Other Guy's voice sounded, deep inside his head, underneath the rubble and debris of the past few weeks. They rarely conversed internally. Bruce was always reluctant and did his best to silence his counterpart.  
  
"What do you want?" It was all he could muster. He didn't feel like speaking to the creature responsible for his kidnapping, his now sore bones, his stinging cuts, nausea, migraines, aching spine, tender bruises, his fear...  
  
"Hulk mad."  
  
Bruce sighed, exasperated. "You always are."  
  
Much to Bruce's alarm, the other voice lessened in harshness. Almost, soft... "Banner tired."  
  
He didn't know why, but he smiled at that. Sadly of course. "Yes, Banner is tired." He winced as he caught his hand on a cut. "Banner is so tired."  
  
"They hurt Banner. Hulk knows Banner hurt. So hurt."  
  
"Yeah, big guy, they hurt me, they really hurt me." He decided to be softer too. "But I'm getting better now. Or at least starting to. You don't need to come out, not until I let you. Ok?"  
  
"Hulk sorry."  
  
"What?" Bruce asked incredulously. "Sorry? You're sorry? For what?"  
  
"Hulk not protect Banner. Hulk try, but Banner push Hulk down. Banner stop Hulk feeling pain, Banner take all pain himself." There was a shift in the temperature of the room, Bruce idly wondered who had tampered with the heating. "Why Banner protect Hulk?"  
  
Bruce never thought about that really. He'd been so sore, he hadn't wanted to exert himself. The transformation into the Hulk brought with it effort, but there was something else. Something deeper. Something with _meaning._ Something he hadn't allowed himself to admit. "Well, you've saved me from pain and death so many times, I thought I could..." He couldn't believe what he was saying, but damn, it was the truth. "there's no point in two people... I mean, two living things, hurting. I thought I could absorb the pain, I'd take it for once, so you didn't hurt as well."  
  
For an inexplicable moment there was silence. It didn't weigh down on Bruce, it felt beautiful and still. He could see the morning slowly appearing, pushing away the night like a Mother bursting through crowds to get to her child, and he closed his eyes as the Other Guy spoke. "Banner protect Hulk?"  
  
Bruce nodded, but then realised Hulk couldn't see. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I didn't reach for you, to protect you."  
  
In Bruce's head he felt the force of stones overturning, neurons firing in every corner, setting up camp and infecting his mind with an unstoppable chaos. He suddenly became aware of how light his body felt. His arms were like twisted paper sheets and his legs simply twigs, somehow his torso was a handkerchief. Somewhere in his trance-like state, he heard the Hulk's voice. "Hulk never been protected before. Hulk thank Banner, Hulk sorry, Hulk always sorry. Hulk try more. Hulk be better."  
  
And the words confused, were lost on, a drifting Bruce.  
  
He couldn't say for how long exactly he slept, but as soon as he lifted his eyes he knew it had been a while. When he'd passed out, mid-conversation with the Other Guy, morning had been coming. Now he was awake and the sky outside was on the verge of night again. He thought he could make out a figure, and he hoped to God it was a nurse. Anyone but an Avenger. Hell, he wouldn't have minded Fury.  
  
He was overwhelmingly disappointed (and admittedly apprehensive) when someone slipped his glasses on his face and he saw that his visitor was Steve. _Fuck's sake._  
  
"How long have I been out?" Was all Bruce could ask. He knew what Steve would try to talk about, so he was going to do his best to avoid that topic.  
  
"At least seventeen hours. You needed the rest, don't worry about it." Steve hesitated, like he was about to say something uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room either. "I'll help you sit up."  
  
Bruce thought about it, then nodded. He took Steve's outstretched hand and used it for support, pushing himself up. He managed quite successfully, without much pain, and had the circumstances been different, he would have been relatively pleased with himself. "Thanks Steve."  
  
"No problem." There was a pregnant pause. "You know I know, don't you?"  
  
And _here we go_ , Bruce thought. "About?" But he sighed, he'd done enough damage already, there was no point extending his sins by lying. "Yeah, I kind of guessed. How?"  
  
"You won't remember, but when you were still drugged up, you told Thor about it. You asked if the train had worked." His voice sounded angry, but not at Bruce. "I should have known."  
  
"Known what?" Bruce was bemused.  
  
"How low you were. The night before you practically had suicidal plastered across your forehead.  _A dog savages a person, the vets inject it. Why shouldn't the same apply to me?_ Those were the exact words you said, or round about. I didn't even think that you could actually be considering ending it all. I should have, though, as Captain I should have realised. With your history..." He averted his eyes, awkward and angry and God-knows what else. "I should have saw. Maybe if I had, you'd never have gone off, Ross wouldn't..."  
  
"Can you not blame yourself?" Bruce found himself imploring. "I'm sick of hearing how much anguish I've caused, so can you please not blame yourself? It's not your fault anyway, I keep telling you, none of it is. I know you think, because you're the leader and all, that somehow you're to blame, for not seeing or whatever. But you're wrong. You're flattering yourself."  
  
Steve grinned at that. "How so?"  
  
But Bruce was serious. "To think your intervention would have somehow changed my mind. It wouldn't have. I had my mind made up the second I saw the damage Hulk did. It's not that I was suicidal..."  
  
"You laid across tracks and waited for a train to crush you."  
  
"I wasn't _suicidal_ though. I didn't feel like I did when I tried to shoot myself, all those years back. I didn't want to die, I wanted to live."  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't follow."  
  
"I didn't want my life to end, I just wanted to stop causing damage. I wanted to stop the threat I was placing all of you under. And the only way to do that was through dying. If it had worked it wouldn't have been suicide, it would have been..."  
  
"Sacrifice." Steve's eyes are fixed on him. They were so old.   
  
"Attempted sacrifice, yeah."  
  
They both laughed, until Steve turned sombre. "Do you feel like that now?"  
  
"No." He was surprised at how honest the reply was. "Not even close. Being kidnapped by Ross, in some ways it's done me good. It's helped me realise things I wouldn't have. Cliche, yeah, but I'm a bit more appreciative of banality, I guess. I feel like I've got more control, I feel ok." _For now._  
  
Steve looked like he understood. "No more trains."  
  
"No more trains."  
  
Steve smiled that half-mouth smile, flooded with genuine warmth. Then he seemed to remember something. "You need food. And a shave." He nodded to the thick stubbled beard that had formed on Bruce's face. "Also, a haircut." Then to the ebony curls, much longer than normal, now growing down his neck.  "But food can come first."  
  
"Oh," Bruce shook his head, "thanks Steve, but I still don't feel well you know? Nausea, and a migraine keeps returning, I think I'd just sick whatever I ate back up."  
  
"The alternative is starving to death. My chicken soup isn't that bad." Bruce didn't want to tell him, but luckily Cap recognised his mistake. "No, you're one of those vegetarian people aren't you?"  
  
Bruce couldn't help but smile. "One of those, yeah."  
  
"I always forget. There wasn't many of those in the war."  
  
"I can imagine."  
  
"Lentil?"  
  
Bruce nodded. "Thank you." He watched Steve start to leave, immediately adding. "Do you know where Tony is?"  
  
The Captain seemed to smile, like he was amused by something. "He's okay. You needn't worry about him."  
  
"He's back at the Tower?" Bruce was persistent, he needed an answer that wasn't so vaugue.  
  
"Not exactly." Steve sighed. "I shouldn't tell you this, I've been told not to. Any more stress wouldn't do you good, the doctors say. But I don't think it's right to keep it from you. And you'll find out soon enough."  
  
Bruce's hands were suddenly clammy, and it felt like a weight was pushing down on his stomach. "What?"  
  
"He's being reprimanded, by S.H.I.E.L.D."  
  
"Reprimanded?" Bruce couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He'd thought of a thousand other alternatives as to what could be wrong. Reprimaded. Not nearly as bad as any of his guesses. "What for?"  
  
"I thought you wouldn't know." Steve sighed again. "He went to find Ross, and he, um," he coughted, "kind of let loose on him."  
  
"Let loose?" Bruce was still incredulous. Steve's answers were completely indiscernible. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Well, he attacked him. Tony had a knife and he used it to cut Ross, the same way Ross cut you."  
  
"But he's alive, Ross? Tony didn't..."  
  
"No, he didn't kill him. Left him unconscious and bleeding out, but he didn't kill him. I believe he would have, if..."  
  
"If what?"  
  
Steve smiled. "If he thought you'd want that. But he knows you, knows your history with the Ross family, knows how you lean toward clemency, and I'm sure, despite however angry Tony was feeling, he just couldn't bring himself to do something that would hurt you any more than you've already been hurt."  
  
Bruce thought on that. He felt like he was learning a new language- the language of being Tony Stark's. And all this affection was so foreign to him. It felt comforting though. To love so hard.  
  
"It's only temporary. Tony should be let out soon.  He's just getting briefed on how what he did won't happen again. They're not punishing him though, or even taking it to court. S.H.I.E.L.D. are indifferent to Ross, I can tell. I think the fact that he took you, an Avenger, and did what they did, well- I think it offended them to be honest. They're stepping up their protection protocol now. It won't happen again, that was definitely the last time. Agents are getting curfews; there are more guards being employed; some are being placed not far from Avengers tower."  
  
Bruce couldn't believe it. "You're kidding?"  
  
"No. Honest. S.H.I.E.L.D. have interpreted your kidnapping as personal. They think the military is trying to sabotage them or something. It's all too complicated to follow. All we need to know is that S.H.I.E.L.D. are paranoid and they're taking care of Ross."  
  
"What will they do? How will they deal with him?"  
  
"I'm not sure." Steve must have registered the fear riddled into Bruce's expression. "But I don't think he'll see daylight again. You don't have to worry about him."  
  
Bruce nodded, returned his friend's smile and watched him go, and closed his eyes, confused by everything and nothing. He was starting to despise being left on his own. He'd never admit it of course, never to let anyone know that vulnerability, but he did hate it.

Despite the hours of rest he'd had, Bruce still felt exhausted. He drifted in and out of sleep, the sound of the heavy rainfall not enough to keep him alert. He began to think he'd never be attentive again, until a knock at the door forced him to. He shook his head, pulling himself together, and said quietly, 'Come in.'

And she did.

She looked no different. After all those years. Still lovely. He'd always used that word to compliment her, _lovely_ , and she'd always liked it. 

They were in the same city. Bruce closed his eyes.

Her ebony hair was drawn up into a wispy ponytail. She wore no make-up, her huge rose lips were chapped. He idly wondered who kissed them now.

 _They were in the same room after so damned long._  

And her eyes, even at a distance he could make out their colour. She stepped forward and he got a better glimpse of her.

She looked so lovely he thought he might cry.

'Betty...' Was all he could manage.

'Oh my God,' her hand flew to her mouth and she let out a sob. It seemed stronger than her, as her shoulders gave one large shake her face crumbled. 'Bruce...your body...' Her eyes were illuminated in their horror as they scanned all his bruises and cuts. 'My Father did this to you?'

He wished he could lie, but somehow he found that he didn't want to. For a moment he considered trying to speak softer about Ross, make him sound better, but that wouldn't be right. He imagined what Tony would say if he heard Bruce even giving an ounce of justification to the General's actions. So he nodded. 'Yeah, he did all of this and more. I'd get up, but I can't walk.'

'Bruce I'm so, _so_ sorry.' She practically flew to him, her full arms hooking around his upper body. She immediately drew back when he winced. 'Are you still in pain?'

'I think I will be for a little while.' He didn't want to talk about that though. 'Betty...you're here.'

'Yes.' She laughed, tears glistening down the porcelain of her cheeks. She took his face in her hands. 'I'm here, Bruce. I'm here.'

'If you'd told me in advance, I would have got Captain America to help me shave. He's offered.'

Again, she laughed, though she looked like she'd have preferred to cry. 'I like the look.'

'You're kidding.'

'No I'm not, I don't ever lie, remember?' Bruce remembered. Her hand was in his hair now, carding through the locks. 'You'll always be beautiful to me.'

'Is everything all right Betty?' He said softly. 'Your life is good? Please tell me it is.'

'It is.' She nodded reassuringly. 'It's good, Bruce. And you? The Avengers, they care about you? Your life with them, is it good?'

He smiled. 'They risked their lives for me. All of them. I... I don't deserve them.'

She shook her head, sobbing again. 'You still hate yourself.' And more tears fell, this time on top of him.

'No, no, no..' He frantically reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders. 'I don't, not anymore.'

'Promise me.'

He nodded. 

She sighed. 'And you haven't tried again, you know, since the gun...' Betty trailed off, shielding her face from him, as if afraid of his answer. 

'Once more.' _What was with his honesty?_  

Her sharp intake of breath cut him more than any of Ross' knives. 'How?'

'A train.'

The sound she made killed him. 'Bruce...'

'But it wasn't for the reasons you think. And I'm better now.' He couldn't take his eyes off her face, so close to his. She pressed her lips against his forehead. 'Why did you come?'

She seemed angry at that. Affronted. 'How dare you, Bruce? You must know why I came. Don't you know I have a heart, and you're a part of it? A large part! I heard my Father was being detained, when they told me what for, I couldn't _not_ come to see you.'

'Why?' He just wanted to hear her say it. To hear what tense she used.

A pregnant pause followed. She touched his face again. 'Because I loved you more than anything in the universe once.'

He nodded. 'Have you...' He didn't know how to ask. ' Has there been anyone else?'

Her nod was blunt. 'Yes.'

'Do you...' He gestured at her heart with his hand.

'He's the one I love now Bruce, yes.' Her expression looked pained. 'It doesn't mean that what we had wasn't real. Sometimes people just stop being right for each other. I still care about you.'

'I won't forget you, Betty.'

She sounded hopeful. 'I hope you find love again Bruce. After us.'

' I have.' He thought of Tony's face and was homesick. He hated the bay, he wanted to be back at the Tower.

She looked so elated. 'Really?'

'Yeah.'

'And she loves you, she'll take care of you after this ordeal?'

'I'm sure. I'm sure _he_ will.'

Betty smiled. 'Well, he's lucky, Bruce, he should know that. What's his name?'

'Um, Tony.'

She knew right away of course. 'Stark, right?'

Bruce nodded. 

'Make sure he treats you right Bruce. Men like him...'

'What do you mean 'men like him'? You don't even know him.' He perhaps snapped a little too hard, shrugging his face from her hands. 

'I didnt mean it like that. I just meant that he's a materialist, he doesn't seem like the affectionate type. I want you to always feel valued.'

'He saved my life, in more ways than one. He went to kill your Father, after what he did to me, but knew I wouldn't want that so he restrained himself. He put me first, even though he was burning with rage.' Bruce's voice cracked but he went on regardless. 'He told me I was the love of his life.' Bruce needed Tony there right now. He was starting to feel alone again. 'I love him so much, Betty, I can't... can't believe there are people like him. I can't believe I'm with him. We're just beginning but I'm happy. Don't you want that for me? I want it for you.'

Betty nodded. She looked like she understood. 'I'll go now.'

'You don't have to.'

'I do, though.' She wasn't bitter, her voice was soft, so soft. 'I came here because I wanted to see you. I was only going to stay if you needed me to. You don't. I'm so glad that you don't. So glad that you've found someone who loves you like I did.' Bruce closed his eyes as she kissed them. 'What we had was special to me, it was important. Then we changed. And not together; we didn't change together. We stopped being right for each other. But you still matter, you'll keep on mattering to me.'

Bruce nodded. Her words, he felt the same.  They weren't right for each other, hadn't been for years. He realised then that he didn't love her anymore. At one point he had, but not now. 

And Bruce smiled to himself, because he knew Tony would never stop being right for him.


	10. Endless Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: suicide attempt reference (quite heavily) and a lot of other triggering stuff. Mild sexual scenes. Stay safe :)

Bruce was left very much on his own for a while after Betty left- a solid hour or so, of which he spent wishing that he had asked her to stay. Or that he'd asked Steve to stay. Called for Clint, Tasha or Thor.  The loneliness just ate at him.

He'd have preferred Tony's company over anyone's, but the man was incarcerated. His insides felt like thorns, sore and prickled from longing. He needed Tony right now. But still, part of him didn't. The same part that was worried sick. What if Tony was furious with him about the train incident? Or worse- disappointed.  
  
He'd drank so much water, _his mouth had felt so damned dry_ , that he now desperately needed the bathroom. At first he thought he could wait until someone came, and they'd help him stand and walk. The idea died in time. To be robbed even further of his freedom. His dignity!

 _No_ , _he needed to do this himself_.  
  
It took a considerable amount of effort for Bruce to heave himself up, and when he managed, his legs were so weak and wavering that he clattered to the floor. It had been so long since he'd used his legs. His knees flamed at the hard contact, he thought for a second he was going to cry out, but was able to stop himself, thankfully. Breathing steady, Bruce slowly pulled himself up, using the bed as a sort of railing. It worked and eventually he was stood.

It wasn't a steady position, but still, Bruce felt like smiling. The urge fizzled out as he took another step and fell again. It had been so long since he'd used his legs.  
  
After falling exactly eight times, he finally reached the bathroom adjoined to his own room. He caught a glance at himself in the mirror and sighed. He thought he looked repulsive; a brutal picture. A large scar was raised from his skin across his nose and beneath his right eyes, his lips were cut and his face was coloured lilac and red from bruises and blood.

'What a mess, Banner,' he told himself, 'what a bloody mess.'

It took him just as long to get back into bed. When he did, he sighed in relief. One journey down for the day. He hoped against hope it had done him some good and not actually made his whole condition worse.

'Brother Bruce,' a soft but powerful voice sounded from the door, 'may I come in?'

Bruce turned to see Thor. 'Of course.' 

'I'm relieved to see you sat up and conscious, my friend. I was quite distressed to see you in that much pain the other day. I took the first shift of watching over you and it was a horrible sight; you were bloodier than you are now.' Thor took a seat next to the bed. The demi-god gave him a soft gaze; he also rested a large hand on Bruce's shoulder. It felt nice. 'You spoke some words then, though you were not fully aware of yourself or your surroundings, or myself for that matter. But what you said, dear Banner- it has stayed with me, every moment since. I cannot forget no matter how hard I try.'

'I'm sorry, Thor, I... Steve told me about it, and I'm embarrassed. I didn't mean to cause you worry, that's one of the last things I'd want.'

'Bruce.' The demi-god squeezed his shoulder, and when they made eye contact the Asgardian's iris' were blue and so warm Bruce thought he was going to cry; such relief flooded him to suddenly _not_ be on his own. What was happening to him? He was hypersensitive to everything. "I have to know why, and I apologise if this upsets you to speak of- but I need to know. Why did you do it?"  
  
'I, um...' He sighed. How many times would he need to repeat this story today? To how many people? 'I didn't want to die Thor, I just didn't want to be a danger anymore. So I tried to end everything, hoping that it would put a stop to the amount of people I hurt."  
  
Thor's eyes were now slightly glazed. He closed them for a brief second. 'Sacrifice.'  
  
Bruce nodded. 'I'm sorry I sprung all that on you, I wasn't clear-headed.'  
  
'Please friend, do not feel obliged to make apologies for you have done no wrong. This world's media,' Thor said that word oddly, as it was probably still a new one to him, 'and a great many others, have had you believe that you're a danger. And you thought to act on that, to protect others. Your actions were brave.'  
  
He hadn't expected that. 'You honestly believe that?'  
  
Thor nodded. 'Do not feel ashamed of your scars, wear them like armour. With pride.' He leaned closer. 'Having said all of that, your belief was misguided. The Hulk is an asset to the team, to your country and the world, even to yourself, although you are likely to disagree. He is not a threat. You have no need to sacrifice anything.'  
  
'I know...'  
  
'But I'm not sure you do know exactly.' Thor cut in. 'You are valued, Bruce. By myself and the others, by so many people. You cannot throw your life in front of trains, put bullets in your mouth. What if it works one day? Would that please you?'  
  
'It would have, once over.' He found himself speaking words of raw honesty. 'But not anymore.'  
  
Thor's smile was like light, streaming in through the windows and warming his cold bed. 'That is the greatest news I have heard in a long while, brother.' He clapped Bruce's other shoulder. 'My mind can finally rest.'

Much to the doctor's relief, the conversation changed and Thor was soon spilling stories of Asgardian battles and triumphs. Bruce listened intently; Thor was not someone you could stop listening to when he began to speak. His voice commanded attention. 

'May I interrupt?'

They both turned to see Steve carrying a bowl and a mug on a tray. 

'You may join us, good Captain, of course. I was just recounting to brother Banner here a tale of war, a battle back on Asgard, against the most aggressive army of Frost Giants you could imagine, Steve. They were swarming in from every direction...'

'I'll hear it another time, Thor. You are needed by Fury. He wants to speak with you about the new security protocols.'

'If I am needed, then I must part.' He nodded to Bruce. 'Take care of yourself, friend, and get well soon. I look forward to the Hulk's return on the field of battle.'

Steve shook his head, laughing, as Thor left. 'He isn't really needed.'

'What?' Bruce questioned.

'l have heard that Frost Giant story at least eight times. I didn't fancy a ninth.'

'And here I was thinking you were America's example of morality.' Bruce's amused smile reached his eyes. 'That was evil. Poor Thor.'

'I did you a favour, I thought you'd been through enough, let alone have to listen to that.' Steve sat down on the seat Thor had just vacated. 'Trust me.'

' _Hey_ , I was enjoying it, actually. Now thanks to you I don't know how it ends.'

'Don't worry, I'm sure he'll tell you it another six or so times.' They both laughed. 'I brought you some food, and tea. Will you try to stomach it?'

Bruce took the tray from his friend. 'Thank you Steve, you didn't have to...'

'Oh shut up, Banner, you're my team mate, it's my job to take care of you. And I do so gladly.'

 _Yes_ , Bruce thought, _America's perfect example of morality._

'I appreciate it.' Bruce said as he swallowed a mouthful of green tea. He then ate a spoonful of the lentil soup. 'It's lovely.'

'An old family recipe.' Steve reminisced. 'I thought it would be best to feed you soup, ease you back into food. I'm guessing they didn't feed you much while you were...  _there_.'

'No, not at all. They fed me drugs- that was it. They gave me some orally as well as intravenous, you know. I tried to clench my mouth shut but they just pushed them down my throat, until I gagged.'

'Jesus...' Steve flinched. His expression was painful. 

'I'm sorry,' Bruce felt bad, seeing the Captain look so distressed, 'I didn't mean to upset you. I... just... it's still a bit unreal.'

'No, no. It's a little hard to take, I admit, to imagine that kind of thing happening to you- you're one of my best friends- but you actually had to live it, never mind imagining it. So if you feel like you need to talk about anything, just call on me. I'll pull up a chair and listen- even if it's the middle of the night, I'm always here to listen.'  
  
'Thanks Steve, I'm not sure I'm ready... I told Tony yesterday, but obviously his reaction wasn't so good.' He thought of Tony slicing up Ross. 'When I think about it, I don't know- I'm suddenly back there.'

'You don't need to explain yourself to anyone. Hell, after what you've just had done to you, you don't need to do anything you don't want to ever again. I just mean that if you ever do want to talk I'll be there to hear you.' He smiled. 'Though I'm sure Tony would beat me to it.'

'What do you mean?' Bruce regarded the Captain curiously. What did he know? 

'Oh, I just observe things, I notice a lot more than people give me credit for. Like, I don't know, two of my team mates when they're in love.'

Bruce chuckled. He thought he would have minded Steve (or anyone) knowing that, but surprisingly he didn't care at all. 'When are they releasing Tony? They shouldn't be keeping him there anyway.'

'This afternoon, I hear.' A slow blush crawled up Steve's neck. 'But no strenuous sexual activity, it'll only do you harm...'

'Oh my God' He muttered, half-amused, after choking on his tea. 'Okay Steve.' He did not need to hear that from Captain fucking America.

'Do you feel better after something on the stomach?' He gestured at the soup, quickly changing the subject. 

'A little, yeah.'

'If you feel like you're going to throw it up, don't.'

Bruce nodded, smiling. 'I'll try my best.'

'Seriously, you need to keep it down. You've lost a lot of weight- too much- thanks to those bastards.' He practically spat the last words.

'Language.' Bruce said automatically.

'Ha ha.' Steve dead-panned. 'I mean it, they are- complete bastards. No other words for them.'

'Thanks for everything Steve. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You risked so much in finding me, the way you stood up to Ross- I won't forget it.' He'd said thank you a hundred times in the past few days . It was not something he was used to: having people care this much.

'Bruce,' his expression showed the doctor that no thanks was necessary, that no thanks would ever be necessary.  'I'd do it a thousand times over, without a single regret.'

Later that day, Bruce found himself in the physiotherapy quarter of the medical bay, sandwiched in between Natasha and Clint. They held up his meagre form easily, Nat's arm around his waist and Clint's wrapped over his shoulder. 

'Tasha and I have done this for each other so often I've lost count.' Clint assured Bruce. 'We're good at it.'

' _I'm_ good at it.' Nat corrected. 'Whenever it was your turn to help me with physio we somehow always ended up falling.'

'Maybe that's because you kept mistaking my assistance as aggression and tried to throw me on the floor. Multiple times.'

'It was early days.' She shrugged. 'You know I have trust issues.'

'Do you feel up to jogging to that wall and back, Banner?'

Bruce wanted to answer no. It was the truth after all. However they had tried their best to help him; he didn't want to disappoint either of them, so he nodded. 'I'll try.'

'Are you insane?' Clint cried. 'I was kidding.  God, you must be eager to impress. You've lost a solid thirty or so pounds in the last two weeks, your bones and muscles have been blasted and are probably aching like hell, nerves shot to bits, body still reeling from a cocktail of hostile drugs and you've got more bruises than I can count. And you think I want you to run?'

Natasha gave Clint a deadly glare. 'Ignore him.' She told Bruce. 'Do you think you can walk on your own for a few steps?'

He nodded again. Still reluctant.

'I still think you should put a jumper on or something, doc.' Clint shrugged.

'He's told you a dozen times he's warm.' Natasha rolled her eyes.

Bruce so enjoyed Hawkeye and Widow's little interactions; they knew each other so well. Privately, he mused if there was something more going on between the two.  Something more than friendship. He hoped so. They deserved each other, he thought. 

'I'm just checking. Remember Nat, it wasn't you who had to stop him freezing to death back on the Quinjet.'

'What?' Bruce looked between the two.

'You went into some kind of shock when we were fetching you here. Clint had to warm you up and he's been edgy about your temperature since. If you had a fever last night it's because he ordered the doctors to turn up the heating in your room.'

'Hey, hey, enough with the Hawk hate. I'm a concerned friend. Let's get back to the job at hand. Now Bruce, can you try and take a few steps?'

As they let go of him, Bruce wobbled a little. Their hands both shot out to steady him right away. Clint's made contact with his bare arm, which was pretty cold.

The archer nodded. 'I knew it. You're freezing.' 

Natasha laid a palm on his forehead to check. 'Quite an exaggeration. Mildly cool, that's it.'

'Don't listen to her, she's Russian, she's used to the cold. Doesn't even recognise it , but I do. And you _are_ freezing!' Clint shrugged out of his zip up and gave it to Bruce. 'There. If you need more heat let me know. Try and walk.'

He took a few apprehensive steps, using the side rail for support. However, much to his dismay and chagrin, his knees keeled a fair amount and he felt them collapse beneath him. Nat was there in a heartbeat. She hooked her arms around his waist and with Clint's help, pulled him up.

'God I'm sorry- my legs just feel like jelly.'

'Hey, hey, hey!' Clint clapped his shoulder, but not too hard. 'You did good! Hell I'm surprised you can even stand after what they did to you...' He trailed off, realising the topic was perhaps sensitive, triggering territory. 'Be proud, man. That was a good job.'

Natasha offered to help him to the couch. Her hand took his; walking suddenly became a whole lot easier. He noted how surprisingly warm her skin felt. He wanted to apologise for the callousness of his.

'You threw yourself in front of a train.' She whispered as she lowered him down to the seat. 'Steve tells me it was sacrifice, not suicide.'

'It was neither, I failed. The Other Guy showed up and then there was Ross, with his tranqs. That's all I know.' He noticed the anxiety in her eyes and sighed. 'It would have been sacrifice though.'

'That was moronic of you.'

'Yes.' He nodded. 'I regret it now.'

'You can't do it again, Bruce, you can't keep punishing yourself. You _cannot_ do it again. That had to be the last time.'

Bruce thought she had never looked that warm before. 'I'm getting better.'

She smiled. Her eyes did too, and Bruce could have swore she squeezed his hand. 'Yes, you are.'

When he was left alone with Clint, the archer disappeared for a brief moment. He returned with a large fleeced blanket. Bruce already felt warmer.

'Tasha might think I'm paranoid but she didn't have to watch you fit and shiver like I did. And hell, you _are_ fucking cold god damn it. I don't care if she disagrees.'

He accepted the blanket gratefully, smiling as brightly as he could. 'Thanks, Clint. And for stopping me from freezing to death on the Quinjet.'

'My pleasure.' He snorted. 'Well, not really. I also had to get off with you.'

'Oh,' Bruce just smiled. 'Was I better than Coulson?'

'I'm serious.' Clint said while sniggering. 'You weren't breathing. So, good old Hawkeye had to do mouth to mouth. I was hurt you didn't return my enthusiasm. Saving it for Stark eh?'

 _How did he know?_ 'I...I, um...'

'Relax. Everyone knows. It got me thinking- do you think any of the Avengers are straight?'

Bruce had never thought of that before. 'Well, I imagine someone... actually, no, not one of us.'

Clint laughed. Bruce wished it wouldn't end, but it did, and the archers expression turned solemn. 'We need to talk, bud.'

'Yes.' Bruce interjected quickly. He couldn't stand any more questions. 'I tried to kill myself. No, I wasn't suicidal. Yes, I just wanted to save potential Hulk victims. No, I'm not low any more. Yes, I promise never to do it again.'

'I tried to kill myself when I was twelve.' Was Clint's reply, as though he were talking about the weather. 'Razor blades, bath water and painkillers. Failed miserably.'  
  
Bruce didn't know what to say. He imagined Clint, as a small child, slicing open his own skin and watching the water turn red. His eyes pricked with tears suddenly, and he could feel them fall down his face. _Twelve years old._  
  
'Shit, I didn't mean to upset you. I should have thought- the doctors said you would be hypersensitive for a while. ' Clint sighed, clapping Bruce on the shoulder, clearly touched by his tears. 'I'm fine now. Look.' He held out his wrists, the scars were still there, but old and not very visible. 'You see, my Father was a bit like yours. One day he hit me so hard I realised I just couldn't take it any more, and I tried to kill myself. I guess I just wanted the pain to end, and I was so scared I would become him. Thankfully he died before I could attempt again.'  
  
'Clint, I... I had no idea... You know, you're everything your Father isn't. You've got everything to hope for.'  
  
'Powerful words.' Clint winked. 'Most people just tell me they're sorry.'  
  
'Because most people don't know what it's like. I do.'  
  
'You do.' Clint paused. He was contemplating deeply. 'Only Tasha knows what I've just told you. Can you not tell anyone else?'  
  
'Of course I won't.'  
  
'Thanks pal.' The archer sighed. 'I don't want to dredge it up, you know? I only told you so you'd know you weren't alone. And I trust you.'  
  
'Thank you, Clint. If you ever want to talk about it...'  
  
'People say you should talk about things like that. I disagree. Sometimes it's best to keep the past in the past. Why wallow in darkness that has already happened? Look toward the future, that's what I think. The god-damned light, you know?'  
  
'I agree.'  
  
'Good. Then I'm not going to force you to talk about the train incident. The others will, or maybe they already have, but I'm not going to. As long as you promise you're better now, you don't ever need to talk about it to me.'  
  
'You've no idea how much I appreciate that. I don't think I could tell the story another time.'  
  
'But you are feeling better? You're not low any more?'  
  
Bruce shook his head. He made sure Clint could see his eyes, see his truthful expression.  
  
Clint nodded. 'Then that's all I need to know, buddy. Now, let's get off our asses, we've got some walking to do.'  
  
His physiotherapy went quite successfully in truth. Bruce had managed to walk across the length of the room grabbing onto Clint's hand. He was feeling relatively pleased with himself, to say the least. He was sat on the rooftop now, on his own, fairly content. A medic had said fresh air would do him the world of good and proceeded to help him outside. She had sat Bruce down in a chair with a blanket, given him some tea in a flask and told him to enjoy the surroundings for an hour or so.  
  
The sunset was beautiful to look at. Pink light folded atop of orange rays, decorated by the frequent scatter of ivory clouds. It brought with it some sense of calm. Oddly enough, he was reminded of his ninth birthday. His Father had been out of town, and Bruce spent the day with his Mother. She'd tried her best to be cheerful and although he could still see the dread in her eyes of when her husband would return, she managed to smile brightly for most of the day. And Bruce had welcomed that; it was rare her face wasn't blood-stained or tear-soaked.  
  
They'd ate cake and drank soda, and at sunset, they'd both went out into the garden to watch it. She'd held him so tight, buried kisses into his hair, whispered _I'm so sorry_ and then _happy_ _birthday, my darling._ The two sentences had contrasted like salt against pepper.  
  
Bruce thought about that day. He closed his eyes and let the memory come back, to fill him. When he opened his eyes again, his Mother was before him. Of course he knew it was a hallucination, a side-affect of the drugs only just leaving his system. But to be quite honest, Bruce thought that after everything he'd been through, he at least deserved to pretend she was real. Alive, even for the briefest of moments.  
  
_'What did they do to you? My boy!'_ She cried, swallowing him in her arms. ' _My Bruce.'  
  
_ She looked so pale- ghost-like. Light slipped down her cheeks and illuminated the eeriness. But still, Bruce thought she was the most beautiful thing. He let her hold him and remained unsure of when he had started crying.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he whispered, 'I tried to be good, tried not to be like _him_ but...'  
  
' _Bruce, you are nothing like him!'_ Her voice was determined. She put her hands on his face and stroked the stubble. Her touch was tender. ' _You make me so proud. Every day.'_  
  
'But...'  
  
_'I couldn't be prouder. My son is a hero.'_ Something in her voice wobbled. _'Will you promise to be kinder to yourself? Don't hurt yourself anymore, my darling, you don't deserve it.'  
  
_ He nodded. 'I promise, Mom.'  
  
_'You're going to be happy. You have someone who loves you. Tony. I couldn't have asked for anyone else to be with you...'_ she had broken down, was openly weeping all over his chest, _'now that I can't. Don't you let him go.'_  
  
And as she vanished, as quickly as she had came, Bruce realised that Betty's visit earlier had probably been a hallucination too. He sighed.  
  
'Who the hell are you talking to, big guy?'  
  
Bruce snapped his head around, the sudden movement hurt and he had to rub the back of his neck. Tony was stood in the doorway onto the rooftop. He looked exhausted, and beautiful. Even from this distance, Bruce could see the weariness in and around his eyes.   
  
'It was just a hallucination; a side-affect of coming off the drugs Ross had me on.' He noticed Tony flinch at the General's name. 'Steve told me what you did.'  
  
Tony snorted, sounding frustrated. 'Of course he did. Cap: can't keep his nose out of anything.' He darted a wary glance at Bruce. 'Are you disappointed in me?'  
  
Bruce was fed up with being weak so he made to stand. He heaved himself up into a semi-standing position. Tony- however tired- was still swifter in his movements. He was having none of it.  
  
'What're you doing? Are you crazy? Have you seen the state of your body? No exertions, for a long time bud. In fact, fuck that- I'm never letting you out the Tower once you get out of this place. For like, ever.' He carefully hooked a hand around Bruce's waist and pulled him down to the ground. The two of them sat, Tony's arm still around Bruce, backs against the wall. 'This isn't hurting you, is it?'  
  
'No.' Bruce said softly. He closed his eyes and let the dying sunlight bathe his face. He hoped it was making Tony as warm as it was making him. 'To answer your question, I'm not disappointed.'  
  
'I thought you'd be disappointed. With more violence. I added more violence to our life.'  
  
'You didn't need to do that for me. Avenge me.' He scoffed. 'You could have gotten yourself into serious trouble. We're lucky it wasn't taken any further.'  
  
'Brucie, what was I supposed to do? I had an image in my head after you told me what happened. A very fucking vivid image. I had to hurt him. And I should have hurt him more.'  
  
'I'm proud that you didn't. It took control.'  
  
'I just thought of you.' He muttered. 'You wouldn't want anyone dead, even if they did fucking deserve it. And if I was put down for murder, nobody could take care of you. And you look like you damn well need that.'  
  
Bruce smiled. 'So I'm your kid now?'  
  
'Not really. That would be massively inappropriate considering the fact I'm planning on fucking your highly-esteemed brains out later.'  
  
A blush crawled up the doctor's neck. 'Steve said that's out-of-bounds for a while.'  
  
'Well Steve can go find a stars and stripes, get the flag pole and fuck himself with it.' They both laughed. 'Don't worry, I'll do all the work. You can just lay back and enjoy.'  
  
'If you say so.'  
  
Tony was quiet for a few moments. Then he swallowed. 'Your hallucination? Who was it?'  
  
Bruce shook his head. 'Just a memory.'  
  
'Of?'  
  
'My Mother.'  
  
Tony was watching him intently, his eyes huge and illuminated. 'What did she say?'  
  
'It doesn't matter, she wasn't real.'  
  
'It does matter.'  
  
'She just... I don't know, she just told me she was sorry. She told me-' He broke off.  
  
'What?' The question was asked softly, and Tony's hand deliberately brushed against Bruce's as their fingers merged.  
  
'- that she was proud of me.'  
  
Bruce watched Tony's expression melt a little; he pursed his lips together and his grip on Bruce's hand tightened. 'She is, you know? I know that it was just a hallucination but she is proud of you. I know it.'  
  
He nodded. 'I hope so.'  
  
'I'd have liked to have met her.'

Bruce came alive for a moment. 'You'd have loved her. She could be hilarious, when my Dad wasn't around she would tell all sorts of jokes. She was kind too; she'd have took a bullet for me. She practically did on many occasions- the bullet coming in the form of my Father's fist, though. She...' He sighed shakily. '...was just perfect.'

'I owe her everything.' Tony muttered. 'She gave me you. Neat little gift, thanks for that Rebecca.'

Bruce chuckled, his face then became serious. 'You said you thought of me, when you went after Ross. I thought of you too. When I was back...there.'

'I know.' Tony's voice sounded touched, like honey. His eyes were smiling morosely. 'Ross told me you called my name.'

He nodded. 'It helped me hold on, you know, I wanted nothing more than to see you again. Even if it was for just one last time. I thought I was going to die. You know. I was taking secrets to my grave, but I didn't want loving you to be one of them.'

'You won't have to feel that scared again. I'll protect you from now on, you and the green guy, from everything.' Tony said simply. His tone may have been typically Tony, but Bruce could sense the affection. 'From yourself.'

Ah, there it was. 'I'm sorry.'

Tony grunted. 'Fuck, Bruce. You lied on tracks and waited for a train to come and kill you, for fuck's sake.' He stumbled over his own words, wincing. He was biting hard on his lip, it looked like he was trying to stop himself from crying. 'Stop apologising, please Bruce. Every time you utter the word sorry you're twisting the fucking thorn.'

'A thorn I put there. I knew how much it would hurt you and the others; but I did it anyway. I was a selfish bastard. It's just... what it is. Public opinion had gotten to me, I convinced myself I was dangerous. That the other guy would wind up hurting people again soon.'

'You're mad! That's anything but selfish, Brucie.'

'Well maybe not. But it was fucking cowardice.' He had come to accept that.

'Tell me what could be braver than lying down and accepting that you might not get back up. All because you want to protect other people. I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Somewhere down the line I must have done something right.' He swivelled in his position so his knees were touching Bruce's. 'Do you still feel like that now?'

Bruce shook his head honestly. 'You've saved me from those thoughts.'

'I'm a billionaire.' Tony smirked. 'Whatever you want, need, tell me. I'd do anything to make you feel okay.'

'Money can't buy what I want.'

'Amazing sex? When you pay for it, it's never too great I tell you.'

Bruce grinned. 'Well there is that but...' He closed his eyes. 'I want to be by your side, every day, for the rest of my life. I think I'd like that.' He felt his mind lose itself, something making him drippy. His consciousness wobbled.

'Money can't give you that. I can though, because I'm awesome. And I will.'

'Thank you.' He grinned. There was a humour there but also rawness, a genuine appreciation.

'And I'm going to stop drinking.'

Bruce's eyes widened. 'What?'

'Correction: I'm going to try to stop drinking.'

'Why?'

'I used to drink because I was made up of empty space, and because bourbon is fucking nice.' His smirk died. 'Now I'm full. I don't need whiskey any more. Got you instead, bud.' He let out a long sigh. 'Our old men fucked us over pretty bad, yours signifcantly more than mine, but alas mine was still a heartless prick. We can forget those bastards, help each other forget.'

Bruce laughed darkly. 'Are you glad that yours is dead?'

He shrugged. 'I'm glad he's not around anymore.'

'I'm glad they're both dead.' Bruce decided. He looked at Tony. 'Things will be good now, won't they? Now that we're together?'

Tony carefully pulled Bruce into him, burying a kiss into the dark curls. 'I think we've got some good times coming, babe. Cause no matter what people have told us, or what we tell ourselves- I think we deserve it.'

Bruce looked up, the two of them hung momentarily in silence, and then they kissed. Neither was sure who had initiated it, they just sort of weren't kissing, and then suddenly they were. 

Tony's lips felt so eager as they kept pressing against Bruce's, so hungry and forceful and desperate and bleeding love. He pulled back and rested his hand over Bruce's cheek. The fingers felt soft against his bruises, he was so careful nor to press the injuries.

'Do you know what?' Tony whispered with a smirk. 'I don't think I'm ever going to die.'

Bruce blinked and moved closer to Tony, their noses touching. 'What? You're gonna live forever?'

Tony shrugged, as though they were discussing the weather. 'Right now I feel like I could.'

'Then I feel that too, yeah.'

They smiled together. Tony's grin was slightly more devious. He winked at Bruce before pulling them both up. He swept Bruce off his feet bridal style. 

'What the hell are you doing? You're going to do your back in.'

Tony sniggered. 'Are you fucking crazy? You weigh pretty much nothing right now.'

'Why are we doing this anyway?' Bruce still smiled behind his bemusement. 

'I want to have sex with you.' Tony shrugged.

The doctor couldn't help but laugh. 'Well it's not going to happen in this position I can tell you.'

'Actually it can, trust me, but no- that's not what we're doing now.' 

'What are we doing then?'

'Well,' the billionaire began walking, down the steps off the roof, 'we're going back to bed. Then we'll fuck.'

As they moved, Bruce sunk his head into Tony's shirt. It smelled of old cologne and sweat and comfort. 

The bed warmed as they sunk into it, Tony laying Bruce down slowly. 'Do you want this?'

The doctor nodded, and thrust his head back as Tony pushed a kiss onto the bare flesh of his neck. 'Are you sure?'

'I want this,' he exhaled, 'please.'

'I'll be gentle.' Tony put a hand under Bruce's neck and lifted his head up slightly only to bury another kiss. This time on his chest. He was careful not to touch the bruised and cut areas of Bruce's body, which were likely still hurting. It was difficult; most of his love's body was beaten. Tony's eyes filled. 'You will only feel good.'

The intimacy was divine; and it left Bruce seeing stars on a starless ceiling. He was hooked beneath his lover's outstretched arm and there were no explosions. No fireworks. For the first time in his life Bruce felt calm. Truly calm.

'I'm gonna help you through this.' Tony whispered against Bruce's forehead, pulling away for a moment to kiss it. His lips stayed there a moment longer than necessary. 'And when you've recovered- do you want to get out of here? For a break, with me?'

'A vacation?'

'Is that what normal people call it? Whatever.'

Bruce nodded. 'I think that'd be good, yeah.'

Tony closed his eyes. 'You know, soon you'll forget what it feels like, to hurt this much. We'll have everything.'

And Bruce felt his eyes grow too heavy to stay awake, he began to drift. As Tony seemingly noticed this he kissed his lips.

'Goodnight, Bruce.'

 His eyes flickered open. 'Tony?' He mumbled sleepily.

'Yeah bud?'

'I think I should tell you, you told me yesterday and I think I should tell you now.' 

'What, babe?' Tony was smiling amusedly, clearly at the sleepiness of his lover. 

'You're the love of my life too.' Bruce said, before he drifted again.

He felt Tony's other arm fall over him, and pull him closer in. He didn't object, nor did he object when a hand ghosted his spine. Up, down, slowly.

Bruce realised this was why he regretted his suicide attempt, because lying in Tony's arms he wished his life was endless. This was what he'd live for. This hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left to go. I've got so much thanks to give all you readers, but I'll save it for when I'm actually finished. Thanks for reading, please leave feedback! X


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's done. Thank you from the deepest parts of my heart to every single person who has read, commented, and gave kudos or bookmarks to this story. It truly is the best feeling and as a writer I hope to grow with all of your help. At the moment I consider myself a little budding plant of a writer but hopefully with time and experience and all your advice I will improve and write better things for you all. But I hoped you enjoyed this. I love you all x

_Three Months Later..._

_Bruce was stood by Tony's side, the rest of the Avengers some distance off. They'd left Bruce to do this on his own, he had asked them to do so and they were all- for the past three months- very careful to make him comfortable._

_Tony knew him best though. As much as Bruce said he wanted to do this on his own, Tony could understand the subtext. He knew his lover was only trying to be brave._

_So he stayed._

_'Dr Banner, can you tell us what happened while you were being held by General Ross?' The cameras all flashed. The press were gathered everywhere, shouting out a hundred and one questions._

_Tony's fingers clasped around Bruce's hand, and then he put his other hand on their joined ones. 'Are you sure you can do this, Brucie?'_

_The doctor tightened the grip. He whispered, 'Stay, please.'_

_Tony smiled. 'See, I knew you didn't want to be on your own. I always know. Call me genius, call me psychic.'_

_Bruce coughed, clearing his throat. He explained the happenings of his abduction to the crowd, feeling Tony's palm grow clammy as he mentioned certain graphic details._

_'Is there something going on between you and Tony Stark?' One asked after he had finished speaking. 'Why are you holding hands? Are you dating? Is it official?'_

_'Are you sleeping together?' Another cried out._

_'How long has it been going on?'_

_'Are you in love?'_

_'How many times have you had sex?'_

_Bruce side-glanced at Tony, who was grinning amusedly. The ball was in Bruce's court. Still clinging onto Tony's hand, he decided just to nod and declare: 'Thank you for your time.'_

_As they exited the platform, someone shouted: 'Is he good in bed, Stark?'_

_Bruce didnt reply, but he watched as Tony craned his neck and said in a deadpan voice. 'For me to know, pal, and you to not find out.' That gained a hive of activity, cameras flashing and recording. Tony turned back to Bruce. 'By the way, you are quite wonderful in bed babe, but I like to leave things to the imagination.'_

_Tony let go of Bruce's hand and draped it over the doctor's shoulder, pulling him into his side._

_And deep in the recesses of Bruce's mind, there was something green, and it felt warm; it felt like broken shards coming together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Thank you Thank you to everyone! X

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


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